


Nature's Changing Course

by Durrant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, M/M, mentions mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 63,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Durrant/pseuds/Durrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape wakes up expecting to celebrate his seventeenth birthday. Instead he finds out he's missed the last twenty years and the wizarding world is celebrating the death of the Dark Lord. </p>
<p>Cast adrift in this strange world, where he is seen as both hero and villain for things he has no recollection of, he struggles to come to terms with suddenly being famous and the unlikely attentions of one Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Snape knew he wasn’t in his own bed as soon as he woke. He opened his eyes cautiously. Bright light streamed through the large window beside his bed and he knew he wasn't still in the dungeons; he was in the hospital wing. 

Closing his eyes, he began to think rapidly. The last thing he remembered was going to bed in the Slytherin dungeon. Today was his seventeenth birthday and he'd been excited as he got ready for bed last night, finally he was going to be a proper wizarding adult. The trace on his wand would be removed and he'd be able to do magic at home. Something must have happened to him during his sleep. 

What could have happened? He certainly felt well enough. It was very strange that he had no recollection of even arriving in the hospital wing. 

He opened his eyes again. This time he saw a boy reading a book and sitting on the bed next to his. 

“You’re awake!” the boy yelled, suddenly noticing that Snape was watching him. It was Potter! Potter had been sitting by his bedside. The very idea was nauseating. 

“Of course I’m awake, Potter. Why am I here? What did you do to me?

“Well, you’ve been in a coma, sir, but everything’s alright. He’s dead and you’re safe.”

Snape pushed back the duvet and leapt to his feet. Potter stood too, looking almost as if he were expecting Snape to fall and he intended to catch him. Snape grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the wall. 

Something was very wrong here. It had never been this easy to take Potter unawares. Snape peered down at the boy, inspecting him without loosening his grip on the boy’s collar.

“What is the meaning of this?” Snape spat out as Potter struggled.

“You don’t remember?” Potter stuttered, his body freezing and a look of utter desperation flooding his face. Snape smirked, happy to have missed whatever nasty prank Potter had devised this time. 

“I regret not,” Snape bit out sarcastically; still trying to put his finger on what was so wrong with this situation. “Have you shrunk, Potter?” he asked, his smirk becoming wider. The boy’s mouth flapped open in astonishment, making him look even stupider than usual. 

“You..you really don’t remember? Because they said it was only a small chance that the potion would effect your mind as well as your body. I should get Madam Pomfrey,” Potter prattled off as Snape twisted his collar more tightly. 

“Madam Pomfrey!” Potter yelled. It galled him to release Potter when he was so completely at his mercy, but he could hear footsteps approaching. 

“Professor!” the nurse called out reprovingly. Snape dropped Potter’s collar instantly; if a teacher saw him like this then he’d get detention for manhandling _perfect_ Potter who was incapable of doing anything wrong in the teachers' eyes. 

“He doesn’t remember anything!” Potter cried out as Madam Pomfrey came over and shooed Snape back to bed. 

“Well, Mr. Potter, we always knew that was a risk. He’s awake and that’s quite good enough for now.”

“I remember everything perfectly,” Snape interjected. Potter and Madam Pomfrey turned to him, both wearing matching expressions of surprise. The nurse paused in the act of covering him with bed sheets.

“Today is my seventeenth birthday.”

Potter’s eyes boggled at him, but the nurse calmly went back to tucking his sheets in.

“I think it would be for the best if you went to fetch Professor McGonagall, Mr Potter,” the nurse said to a thunderstruck Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

McGonagall perched awkwardly on a chair next to his bedside as the two of them sat alone in the empty hospital wing. No-one had explained to him why the Head of Gryffindor was here with him, rather than Slughorn, his own head of House. 

“Poppy informs me that you are under the impression that this is your seventeenth birthday. However, Severus, I have to tell you that you are mistaken. Today’s date is the second of August and you have been in a coma for the last three months. You..Well, that is to say. There has been quite the accident. To be blunt, the year is 1998 and you have ingested a potion that has reverted you to the age, to the very day, that you came of age.”

Snape stared at her, convinced she had gone insane. 

“I saw Potter. Has he also partaken of this amazing potion?”

“Now, Severus, I understand this must be very trying for you, but the boy you met was not James Potter; it was his son, Harry Potter.”

* * *

“Out! Out! Leave me alone!”

McGonagall pursed her lips and nodded stiffly.

“Yes, well. Come to my office after Madam Pomfrey has released you tomorrow, Mr. Snape,” she said reprovingly before marching from the infirmary. 

Snape curled up in the bed, seething with anger. This must be a prank, it couldn’t be true. She wanted him to believe that he had lived an extra twenty years, but then, when he had been mortally wounded, had taken a healing potion so strong that it had reverted him to this age. It was so preposterous he should dismiss the whole idea at once. 

Then she had had the gall to tell him what this supposed older Snape had done in those twenty years. How he had become a Death Eater; how Lily had married James Potter; how he had relayed a prophecy to the Dark Lord that had made him target Lily and her young family; how Snape had become a spy for Albus Dumbledore. 

McGonagall had spoken for ages before concluding that the Dark Lord had set his pet snake on Snape, almost killing him. Snape had barely registered anything beyond the fact that Lily was dead. And that he was responsible for it. 

He’d almost begged McGonagall to stop. This was more tortuous than any of Potter’s bullying. 

Except, it had to be true; McGonagall and Pomfrey both looked substantially older than they had a few days ago. Then there was Potter. Apparently he was Lily’s son. His eyes had been almost the same shade of green as hers were. As hers had been. 

He pushed his face into the pillow and cried silent tears.

* * *

“Tea?”

Snape shook his head at this older version of McGonagall. Her office looked different; there were more books and the office looked shabbier, more lived-in, than it used too.

“I understand that you are only aware of your schooling up until the January of your sixth year, however as a new school year is about to start you are faced with a decision. Either restart your sixth year, or jump ahead to the beginning of your seventh year. From what I remember of you as a student, Sever -Mr. Snape, you would be better served if you started your seventh year this September. Do you agree?”

Snape blinked in surprise. He had no idea McGonagall had ever recognised talent in a Slytherin before, and certainly not in him.

“Yes, that sounds adequate.”

“Well, we shall aim for more than adequate, Mr. Snape. You may not be aware but received your Mastery in Potions shortly after you left Hogwarts. I have been in touch with the Guild and they have informed me that you will retain your Masters, so long as you are capable of brewing the necessary three potions by the end of the school year. Is that acceptable?”

“I am expected to obtain my NEWTS, despite missing most of my sixth year, at the same time as _inventing_ three new potions that are of a high enough standard to gain a Masters?”

“It will not be an easy year for you, Mr. Snape, however I believe that it will be worth the extra effort. You won’t have to apprentice anyone and will leave Hogwarts fully qualified as a Potions Master.”

McGonagall took a sip of her tea and eyed him warily. 

“I don’t believe you were ever particularly enthusiastic about teaching, but once you have your Masters you would be quite welcome to return to your previous position.”

Snape sneered. He could not imagine a worse fate.

“Perhaps, it would be best if I showed you to your, that is to say, your older self’s, quarters.”

* * *

The journey to his chambers was filled with an awkward silence. Hogwarts looked identical to how it had been in his time, although he was surprised to find they were walking to the dungeons. Slughorn had never felt he had to live down here. 

They stopped next to a wall near to the Potions classroom and McGonagall instructed him to lay his hand on a particular brick. A door formed and swung open to reveal a rather tastefully decorated sitting room.

“Well, I’ll leave you to explore.” McGonagall turned to leave, but rather than step away she turned back to face him, her hand grabbing hold of his elbow.

“I know this is all of little relevance now, but I am sorry. For believing that you would...kill Albus,” the witch sniffed loudly. “In the past Professor Snape and I had become, if not friends, then at least colleagues who would have the occasional drink together. I must seem impossibly old to you, but my door is always open to you.” 

Snape stared incredulously as she hurried away. The Head of Gryffindor wanting to befriend a Slytherin whose name she only knew because of the number of detentions she gave him? It was all rather surreal.

The door swung shut behind him as he stepped into his quarters. He could see that he had decorated this place, it was a both elegant and yet slightly cluttered, with more books than the shelves could hold. It looked like how he had once imagined a home should look like.

On the mantlepiece sat an envelope inscribed with the words ‘Mr. Snape’ in a familiar hand. If it were intended for his older self then surely it should have been addressed to Professor Snape, which meant it must be for him, it must be a letter from his older self. 

Tearing open the seal and pulling out the letter, he quickly began to read:

_As you are no doubt becoming aware your current state was no accident; indeed, it is the result of many years research._

_For twenty years I have longed to undo the damage I have caused. The death of the Dark Lord, while satisfying, will not free me from my guilt, my bitterness or my regret. Therefore I have, in a sense, decided to end my own life. I shall not die, and my soul will not go on, but I have no wish to continue. I have spent so many years trying to atone to Lily that I can see no reason to go on once I have avenged her. By returning to my youth I will wipe out all traces of the man I have become over the last twenty years and that is for the best, I have done nothing but struggle for absolution in all these years._

_It is my fervid hope that you take advantage of this opportunity. This is my gift to you, your one chance of happiness. My only advice is this; accept no man as your master. No matter the promises of power and wealth, such words are empty and the cost is far too high._

_Have confidence that your own abilities will bring you success. You are a prodigy in Potions. You have no need to sell yourself to anyone to gain recognition._

_It is a relief to know that my end is near. Use this opportunity well, or, at least, better than I did._

Snape folded the letter back into the envelope and replaced it. The room that had seconds ago seemed so comfortable suddenly felt claustrophobic, with the weight of castle above him. His older self had chosen to annihilate himself rather than continue to live with the decisions he’d made. He had been so desperate that even the death of the Dark Lord was not enough to assuage his guilt. The dungeon air tasted stale as Snape gulped down a lungful. He had to get outside and breathe the fresh air. He needed to find something familiar in this strange world.

* * *

He apparated to Spinner’s End. The front room was just as squalid as ever, but now the room was stuffed full of books, something his father would have never allowed. The place had a rather comfortable feel to it. He smirked slightly. His older self had clearly not cared to decorate this place as well as he had his quarters in Hogwarts. It was nice in an odd way, everything else had changed so much, yet this place was as dreary as ever. A reassuring constant in a world that had changed entirely over night.

* * *

Exploring the house, he found to his astonishment that his things were all now kept in his parents bedroom. Of course, it made sense to sleep in there, but the idea was still repugnant. Someone had been sleeping in his bedroom too, which he found oddly disturbing. 

There was no food in the house, but there was a stash of muggle money in the hiding place his mother had always used. The fancy teapot that she always said she was saving for best, but actually kept any savings she could scrimp by rather than let his dad spend it on booze. There was more money in it now than he had ever seen in there. 

He took a fiver and headed out to the corner shop.

* * *

Snape seethed as he headed back to Spinner’s End. Everything was ridiculously expensive. Inflation indeed! He’d expected to do a week’s worth of shopping, but instead he’d only managed to get some milk and tea bags. 

“Snape!” a voice called out in a thick local accent. Snape stopped and looked round, his hand straying automatically to the wand in his pocket. A fat, balding middle-aged man was ambling towards him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, lad. I thought you were - You aren’t related to Severus Snape are you?” the stranger asked. Snape raised his eyebrow. He had no idea who this person could be.

“You must be! You look exactly like he did at your age!” the man continued, chortling to himself and barely giving Snape time to answer.

“He was my father,” Snape lied.

“Father? Well I never! Always took him for a poofter!” the man carried on blithely as Snape’s hand twitched in his pocket. The urge to hex this disgusting muggle was very strong. 

“Used to catch him staring at my arse!” the man threw his head back, laughing heartily. 

Snape blinked. He did know this man. Graham Bardget. He’d lived across the street from Snape and he’d been a few years older. He had been gorgeous, with narrow hips and golden skin clothed in tight tank tops. He had not aged well. Snape sneered.

“No offence! No offence. How is your old man?”

“Dead,” Snape said bluntly as he turned to leave. He was disgusted; he had thought this foul muggle attractive, had wanked to thoughts of his tight little arse. Yet seemingly overnight he had become this fleshy blob. 

Bardget called out some more inanities as he walked away, Snape didn’t bother to turn round. He had no interest in seeing that man again. Bardget had never deigned to talk to him before. 

Last summer, his first lonely summer without Lily in years, he had tried to talk to Bardget. The boy had laughed in his face, mocked him for supposedly finding him attractive. Well, Bardget need have no more worries on that front. Twenty years had killed Snape’s desire more effectively than Bardget’s taunts ever could.

* * *

The house was quieter than it used to be, Snape noticed as he lay in bed. There were no more strange creaks and rattling noises from the pipes. His older self must have put a spell on them. It seemed an odd thing to do, when he hadn’t even bothered fixing the cupboard door handles in the kitchen.

He grinned to himself. His father had broken that cupboard handle one drunken night, right before he’d fallen down the stairs and broken his leg. Of course, his mother would have been able to heal him in seconds, but, no, he wouldn’t allow magic in the house. So he’d had to wear a plaster cast for weeks. Had to hobble to the pub on crutches. Served him right for being such a small-minded, drunken muggle.

Snape shifted uncomfortably in the large bed. It was good to get away from Hogwarts. Everything that his older self had done seemed so surreal, so disconnected from him. The letter he’d written seemed so ridiculous. Of course he wasn’t going to throw his lot in with some new _master,_ there wasn’t anyone like that around nowadays. 

His thoughts strayed to Lily. He knew she had still been angry, but he never imagined that their friendship was truly over. One day she would have forgiven him. If she hadn’t died. Snape could feel the tears forming behind his eyes, as unbidden as the feeling of bitterness and self-recrimination that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Snape turned sharply in the bed, flopping onto his back, as if he could physically move away from his emotions.

* * *

He woke with a start, unable to remember more than a few snatches of his dream. He also woke with his first erection since he’d woken up in this time. Usually he couldn’t stop the damn thing from getting hard every five minutes. 

Reaching down, he hiked up his nightshirt to grab hold his hard prick. Although he started wanking slowly, he soon lost all patience, rapidly pumping at himself, desperate to come as quickly as possible. Images of men flicked through his head, for a split second he thought of Graham Bardget and the way he would lean against the alleyway wall as he smoked a cigarette. The way his lips had formed a tight little ring as he sucked at it. 

Snape stopped, his revulsion at the very thought of what Bardget looked like now almost killing his erection. Casting his mind around for more attractive men, he slowly began to wank again. Without conscious thought the memory of Potter sprang forth. Snape almost stopped again in disgust. The brat’s father had been the bane of his existence and their faces were ridiculously similar. 

Except, their bodies weren’t. This Potter was much shorter, slighter and altogether more supple. He remembered the way that he had pushed Potter against the Infirmary wall, the satisfactory way that Potter had writhed beneath him. The way he’d gasped as Snape had held his collar. The way he’d looked at Snape with respect.

He came all over his hand. 

Snape vanished the mess and curled up under the thin duvet. He was going to go back to sleep and he had no intention of thinking about what he’d just done.


	3. Chapter 3

The kitchen was as bare as ever when Snape went in search of breakfast. Taking forty quid from the teapot, he went to the bakery, bypassing the disgustingly overpriced cornershop. 

The bakery was boarded up with wooden planks that were covered in graffiti; the place had clearly been closed for some time. The butcher's down the road was in exactly the same state, which made no sense. The muggles had to be buying their food from somewhere. 

Feeling slightly lost and without really thinking about it, he began to walk towards the park where he usually met Lily. Of course, last summer she had never been there, but he wasn’t sure where else to go. 

The park was gone. They’d built a supermarket there. 

Snape bit his lip and strove to keep his face impassive. The one good thing about this hellhole and the muggles had destroyed it.

* * *

“Severus?” a female voice called out from the front room. Snape frowned down at his half finished breakfast before he went to investigate, why had his older self not locked his floo? 

“Severus, it’s Minerva. Professor McGonagall.”

“Professor,” Snape answered, kneeling in front of the fireplace so he could both talk to McGonagall and block her entrance.

“Oh, thank goodness, there you are! I thought you were still at Hogwarts. There’s an Order meeting, Order of the Phoenix that is.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. This hardly seemed relevant to him, he’d never heard of the Order of the Phoenix.

“Well? Don’t just sit there! Come on, young man! Get ready and come through, we’ll travel together.”

As McGonagall’s head disappeared Snape went in search of his cloak and a book. Returning to the fireplace he discovered a pot for floo powder on the mantlepiece. He took a pinch, but stopped himself before throwing it into the fire. He rubbed the powder gently between his fingertips and gave it an experimental sniff. This was certainly the highest quality floo powder he’d ever used, but he couldn’t imagine that his older self had actually bought floo powder. It was so easy to make, although whoever had made this was truly gifted. Had he made this? Certainly he wouldn’t be able to make this quality right away, but maybe he had tweaked the recipe, improved it as he had with so many before. It was an exciting idea and he couldn’t wait to go through his older self’s potions logs.

* * *

Snape sat hunched in the corner, his hair hanging into his face, blocking his view of the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and the people staring at him. He only recognised Mcgonagall and Potter, who, naturally, was surrounded by a gaggle of hangers-on. Snape sneered and opened his book. He was used to people looking at him with disdain, and, as he was about to be moved ahead half a school year, he certainly didn’t have time to bother with these fools. 

“Severus!” a plump, red-haired women pulled him up into a tight hug. Her heavy breasts squelched into his chest and he felt vaguely sick. Snape held his back straight and tried to push away from her, but, he realised with horror, she was crying onto his shoulder. 

“Merlin! I..” she pulled her head back to look him in the eye, still clinging to his arms, “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

Snape tried to hide his own bewilderment as the strange woman released him and dabbed a handkerchief at her eyes.

“Well, now. Would you like a cup of tea?” 

Snape shook his head mutely. 

“Yes, well. This must all be very strange, but don’t you worry. We’ll get everything sorted out soon,” she told him as she patted his arm in an overly familiar way. He repressed the urge to flinch away as she turned her attention to another member of the Order.

Potter was staring at him. Snape wasn’t going to deign to acknowledge it, he just glared at him through the hair that fell in his face. It was so easy to hate Potter, when his face looked exactly like his father’s; but then, he was also Lily’s son.

Lily had always said that he’d be the godfather to any child she ever had, but clearly that hadn’t happened. They hadn’t been friends when the boy had been born. Black was probably the boy’s godfather, which meant he’d raised him to be the same arrogant, psychotic little shit that Black was. Looking around he couldn’t see anyone that looked like Black, but then, there had been a war. He could always hope that Black was dead.

A short girl with long red hair was sitting next to Potter, her body language speaking volumes as she leaned into him and pushed her breasts up. Potter looked entirely oblivious, his eyes hooked on Snape. The brat probably had so many girls throwing themselves at him he didn’t even notice this one. Or perhaps Potter was just as disturbed by the physical resemblance between this chit and Lily as Snape was. 

“You have to give them back!” the girl yelled at Potter, before hissing in a stage whisper that carried across the kitchen to Snape’s ears,“You’re obsessed with them, it’s not healthy.”

Potter finally turned to the girl and muttered something. Whatever he said to her shut her up, although she continued to point her breasts at him.

A few more people arrived, settling themselves on chairs around the large kitchen. Snape returned to his book, only to be interrupted by Potter giving an awkward little cough. The little bastard had snuck up on him and was standing directly in front of him. Snape tried not to be too obvious as he slowly put his hand in his pocket to get his wand out. Surely, even Potter wouldn’t do anything so stupid as start a fight in public like this. 

“Professor?” Potter blinked vapidly at him.

“Difficult as it may be for you to grasp, as I am seventeen years old, I am not actually your professor.” 

“Oh. Yeah, yes. I suppose not. I wanted to give you something,” Potter put his hand in his pocket and Snape instantly pointed his wand at him.

“I doubt you have anything I want,” Snape said, trying to sound as menacing as he could. If Potter started anything it would definitely be Snape that got into trouble for it. Potter stopped moving, staring incredulously at his wand tip.

“It’s something you gave me, when you were...When I thought you were dying. They’re memories. Of you and my mum. And about being a spy. If you want them back?”

Snape nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure he did want those memories, but the idea of Potter having them, of viewing them any time he wished, was horrible. 

“What do you want in return?” Snape inquired, he didn’t have much apart from muggle money until he got to Gringotts and looked at his account. Potter shook his head rapidly.

“No,” he burst out, ”They’re yours.”

Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he held out his hand; his wand still pointed at Potter, just in case he did anything funny. The little bottle that Potter put into his hand looked like it did indeed contain memories. Snape pocketed the bottle and slowly lowered his wand.

Potter was still staring at him, fidgeting with his hands as he stood there, stood there judging him, silently accusing him of killing his parents, of being responsible for countless deaths he didn’t even remember. 

“Go away, Potter!” Snape spat. Potter looked up, his green eyes wide with surprise.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he muttered and this time Snape did not correct the honorific, it was rather sweet to hear the boy use it. James Potter would have loathed it. 

Potter drew in a deep breath and began his little speech.

“I would be very grateful if you could spare some time to talk to me about my mother, I’ve never met anyone who knew her well and is willing to talk about her. So, um, if that’s alright?” Potter let the question hang awkwardly. 

Snape smiled, smiling more as he saw the look of confusion on Potter’s smug little face. 

“No.”

The look of disappointment on Potter’s face was priceless. Did the boy have a single thought that he didn’t instantly broadcast to the world? Snape’s smile turned into an all out grin, this was too easy.

Potter swallowed, clearly struggling to hold back a retort. 

“You were in love with my mum and -” Potter began, cutting off as Snape stood up quickly so he could use his height advantage to tower menacingly over Potter. 

“Don’t be disgusting.” Lily was, had been, his best and only real friend; he had no wish to hear Potter demean that by suggesting there had ever been anything so tawdry as a romantic attachment between the two of them. 

Potter stared up at him flabbergasted.

“But, but, your memories..I thought,” Potter stammered.

“I have no idea what you are wittering about, _Potter_ , but if you ever suggest such a thing again I will hex you, do you understand?” Snape hissed, leaning his head down to whisper practically straight into Potter’s ear. The boy shivered below him.

“Kingsley’s here! Alright everyone, settle down. Come on, Harry, sit down,” someone called out.

Potter gave him one last, puzzled, glance and then sauntered back to his friends.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, with the last of the Death Eater trials, I’ll be calling an election. That should probably be in December - ”

“Are you going to run for Minister?” a red haired man yelled out. 

“Well, now,” the man, Kingsley, said with a slow smile, “it would be nice to have the power to actually do some good, rather than just post-war clean-up, but Sylvan Witherknot is a good man and I trust - ”

“Oh!” the same man interrupted again, “how much can you trust someone who spent the war hiding in France?”

The same woman who had hugged Snape earlier, now slapped the man’s arm and began to scold him.

“You let the Minister finish, Bill! Don’t be so rude!”

“Interim Minister,” Kingsley said gently. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve all been keeping an eye on the Prophet, which, I’m happy to say, has been reporting the trials with astonishing accuracy. I know it wasn’t universally popular, but I have managed to change the law so that Azkaban escapees are not automatically given the Kiss. Even with the Dementors no longer guarding the gaol, a life sentence there is still, I feel, sufficient punishment. And if the next Minister, after having been democratically elected, unlike myself, decides to change that, then, so be it. 

“All of those Death Eaters who broke out of Azkaban in 1996 are either dead or, like Mulciber and Dolohov, recaptured and their sentence resumed. With the exception, of course, of Rabastan Lestrange.”

Snape sat up suddenly. He knew all those men, he shared a dorm room with Mulciber; just the other day he had been talking to the boy. It seemed impossibly strange that he was now in Azkaban, lucky to be alive. 

“Those escapees from the 1997 breakout have proven to be more elusive. Crabbe and Jugson are still in hiding, after a daring escape from the Ministry and, I suspect, that they’re being aided by low level Death Eaters who never took the mark.”

Snape shrank back into his seat. He knew all these people. Kingsley went on and on, listing off names; some dead, some in Azkaban, others missing or on the run from the Aurors. Some of these people he had been at school with, others had been people that Malfoy had introduced him to, or even just mentioned as important people that Snape should meet. In fact, everyone that he’d ever really been friendly with was listed. Apart, of course, for Lily.

It struck him suddenly, the enormity of what he’d done, how he’d betrayed every friend he’d ever had, in order to avenge Lily. He understood what his older self had meant in his letter now. He hadn’t spent the last twenty years living, he’d just been working off his terrible debt to Lily. 

“Despite some initial calls that Severus should stand trial for his actions,” Snape felt a pang of fear shoot through him, as he was startled from his musings.

“Popular opinion seems to be that he should be lauded as a hero for his spywork, and for his protection of the students of Hogwarts. Credit for that turnaround undoubtedly goes to the numerous interviews that Harry and Ginny have given to the Prophet about the good work that Severus has been up to.”

Snape glared at Potter, unwilling to acknowledge another debt to a Potter. As he watched, the red haired girl snatched up Potter’s hand, clinging to it tightly as everyone else in the room turned to give them admiring glances. Potter ducked his head, blushing through the murmurs of approval. Conceited bastard was obviously praised so often he didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. 

“However,” Kingsley continued, “all that is moot now. Under Lethe’s Law, wizards can’t be tried for crimes their older selves committed, so long as they have no memory of it. Which means that Severus can return to Hogwarts as any other student.

“Although, as most of the older Slytherins are under house arrest and will be completing their studies from home, Severus will be one of the few actually in his house. I’m sure he will set a good example to the younger years.”

Kingsley looked over at him with a patronising smile while some members of the Order tittered their amusement.

“The restructuring of the Ministry is going well. Unfortunately, Umbridge - ”

Snape stopped listening as Kingsley’s speech became increasingly concerned with bureaucratic minutiae.

* * *

Speeches finished, everyone rose to their feet and began to mingle and chatter. Snape got to his feet, eager to get home. A young man with an odd scar on the side of his head approached him, a wary look on his face as he regarded Snape in silence. 

“This is so weird. You don’t remember me at all?”

Snape shook his head, not bothering to hide his curious glances at the man’s missing ear.

“George Weasley. You did this,” Weasley said, gesturing towards the side of his head. Snape’s eyes snapped away from the scar and he peered into the man’s eyes, checking for some sign of deceit. Weasley stared back at him silently, his hands slowly clenching into fists and then, just as slowly, unclenching.

“I know it was an accident, but I wanted you to know that I forgive you,” Weasley put his hand out as if to shake Snape’s hand. He sneered.

“You’re forgiving me for something that I did by accident, that I don’t even remember. I think not.” Snape clasped his hands behind his back, making his absolute refusal to shake this man’s hand as plain as possible. To his surprise, Weasley burst out laughing.

“Oh Merlin! You know, Professor, just when I think that nothing is ever going to be same again, that everything’s just...buggered. Well, there you are, just being the same old miserable git. Good to have you back!” Weasley slapped him on the back, far too heartily. 

“Here, have a business card. The shop’s closed at the moment, but...I’m going to re-open soon. We never really got into potions, but if you’re looking to make a few Galleons then I’m sure we could work something out.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. He always jealously guarded his potions and spells, plus he remembered his older self’s warning about accepting no man as his master. However, he also had no idea how much money he had; if he were in need of funds, then selling a few potions would be easy money. 

“Exactly what kind of shop do you run?”

“Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes; it’s a joke shop. I was thinking, cos the shop hasn’t been open for a few months, well, the love potions - they’re only 24 hour ones, mind you. They will have strengthened. So I was thinking, rather than throw them away, I should sell them as being extra strong, but also sell the antidote, just in case people find them _too_ strong. Problem is, I can’t seem to get the antidotes right.”

“It does take a certain level of skill,” Snape said, not bothering to hide his smugness. He, personally, had never understood why people struggled to make such antidotes. If he had been sure of the state of his finances, he would have rejected Weasley on the spot. He did not like the idea of this man as his boss, and he hated the idea of being involved with anything so mundane as love potions.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t just be that. I want to diversify into - ”

“I’ll let you know,” Snape bit out grudgingly, as he turned away to pick up his book. He had no interest in staying to socialise, especially not when there were so many interesting books waiting for him at Spinner’s End.

“Alright, Professor,” Wealsley gave him a cheeky grin, “perhaps I could buy you a drink sometime.”

Snape paused to give the man an appraising eye. Honestly, he’d rather cut his own dick off than go near that many freckles, but he’d wanked to thoughts of Potter last night, so he was obviously desperate. With a grunted acknowledgement he pushed past Weasley and headed for the floo. He’d never be that desperate.

Searching the mantlepiece for the floo powder, he overheard his own name. He slowed down and listened in as the girl, Ginny, lectured Potter.

“You’ve given back his memories, you’ve tried to talk to him and he’s not interested. Yeah, I know he was a war hero, and I saw what he did for the students last year; but this Snape? He’s just some teenage blood supremacist. He’s not the Snape that did all those things! So just, just forget about him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw the girl try and wrap an arm around Potter. The boy flinched awkwardly away. 

“It’s not that simple, Ginny.”

Snape found the floo powder and, making a last minute decision to visit Gringotts before he went home, raised his voice into the floo. As he spoke, he drew Potter’s attention to him, and he saw a flicker of surprise cross the boy’s face before he stepped into the floo and spun away.

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron looked exactly the same. In fact, he was pretty sure some of the spiders webs behind the bar were the same ones that had been there the last time he’d been here. The same bartender, looking only slightly older, greeted him. The perfunctory welcome changing into a wide grin as Tom recognised him. 

“Well, well! Professor, sir. I heard rumours you’d been youngified.”

Snape frowned, how many times was he going to have to remind people that he was no longer a teacher?

“Begging your pardon, but youngified is what people are calling it. Get you a drink, sir? On the house, for a war hero like yourself.” 

Snape tried not to gape at him in astonishment. The last time he’d been in here the barman had almost thrown him out. He’d been supposed to meet up with some other Slytherins over the summer holiday, but he’d been too early and he hadn’t had enough money for a butterbeer. It was only because Malfoy had turned up and paid for his drink that Tom had let him stay. Although, Malfoy had then gone on to tell him that the Leaky Cauldron was a terrible place to meet up; saying it was always full of mudblood lovers who couldn’t appreciate the Dark Arts. 

Behind him, the floo roared to life and someone came stumbling through. Whoever they were, they were obviously incredibly inept; the man sprawled on the floor by his feet.

“Potter?!” Snape hissed down at him, in what he hoped sounded like a dangerous whisper, “Did you follow me?”

Potter leapt to his feet.

“Yeah, well. We haven’t actually announced that you’re awake yet, so I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Snape blinked at the sheer arrogance. He hardly needed Potter’s help and he was determined to tell Potter exactly what he thought of his offer; but the bartender interrupted before he could begin his diatribe.

“Harry Potter and Severus Snape in _my_ bar! So proud, sirs!”

“Er, well, we’ve can’t stop. Snape, erm, Severus has a lot of shopping to do.” Potter stammered, as he grabbed hold of Snape’s arm and tried to drag him out of the bar.

Snape let himself be led away, but as soon as they were in front of the bricks to Diagon Alley, he shrugged Potter off. The force he used sent Potter crashing into the wall. Snape smiled, he was certainly getting into the habit of pushing Potter up against walls. 

“Never do that again. Never touch me and never, _absolutely never,_ call me by my first name. Do you understand, you arrogant little shit?”

Potter’s face looked even more devastated than it had that day in the Infirmary.

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to get us out of there as quickly as I could!”

“Oh yes? You were so sure that I wanted to leave?”

Potter gulped and twisted his hands in front of him. The gesture was oddly familiar and Snape felt a pang as he recognised from where. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll just...leave you alone.”

Potter Apparated away, leaving Snape staring at a brick wall. He tried to put from his mind the image of himself begging Lily for forgiveness, begging her to not end their friendship. Potter had looked as desperate as he had felt that night outside the Gryffindor Common Room. 

He was, after all, not a complete fool; he was a Slytherin. A Head of Slytherin, in fact. If the Saviour of the Wizarding World was so desperate for his friendship then he could have it; he could put up with Potter’s smug little face if he had too, if there was something to be gained from it.


	5. Chapter 5

Stepping out of Gringott’s Snape felt like an enormous burden had been lifted from him. For the first time in his life he would not have to worry about money. Professor Snape couldn’t have ever spent much of his salary, not when he’d left behind an account so healthily stuffed with gold. Snape had even felt there was enough to withdraw a small amount and go shopping. He wasn’t sure he actually needed anything, but for the first time in his life he was at liberty to buy anything he wanted. 

Diagon Alley looked more run down than he remembered it being, but then these people were recovering from a war. Knockturn Alley, however, looked almost identical. Even the hags selling knock off body parts looked the same. His favourite apothecary, Eber’s Medica, was still standing, the windows as full of strange looking dead animals and dried plants as ever.

Stepping into the shop, he was hit by the most alluring of smells, a mixture of dust and potion ingredients. It nearly made him salivate in excitement, he could afford to buy anything he wanted in here.

He stopped in front of a display of severed human hands, pausing before prodding one gently.

“Oi! No touching!” the shop assistant yelled at him, before discreetly materialising at his side. “All genuine human, each one cursed. Perfect for potion use, sir.”

Snape scoffed. Unless there had been a serious amount of invention in the last twenty years then he couldn’t imagine the hands would be any use in potions. 

“Not in any legal potion,” Snape countered. The shop assistant turned to look him over thoroughly with narrowed eyes.

“You Snape?”

He nodded, suddenly unsure of himself and loathing it. 

“Well! We don’t serve your sort in here! So you can just forget it!”

“My sort?” Snape hissed, his wand already in his hand.

“Traitors,” the man hissed back and spat on the floor by Snape’s feet. The rage that had been building drained away as Snape stumbled from the shop. He’d always been picked on for being too interested in the Dark Arts, for finding something fascinating when everyone else was disgusted by it. But now, here, he was despised for something far more concrete, except he had no idea what that was. 

He headed, unthinkingly, to Slug and Jiggers. Although there were a few customers milling around the apothecary, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Instead he lowered his head and let his hair fall over his face as he browsed the shelves. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting though, just the standard array of ingredients, and, in typical Slug and Jigger style, half of them were over-dried and all of them overpriced. With a resigned sigh he left the shop.

The gold in his pocket hung heavily, but he had no idea what to buy. A week ago he could have listed a hundred things he wanted; now it all seemed a little pointless. Wandering aimlessly past shops he recognised, and ones he did not, he saw a small child frantically running towards him.

“Professor! Professor!” it yelled at him, before pouncing and latching it’s grubby little arms around his thigh. A man in muggle clothes jogged up to him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Professor Snape! But you’re Faith’s hero, you know. Do you, er, remember anything? From before?”

“No, I do not,” Snape said curtly, glancing at the man before bending down to try and untangle the girl from his leg. The man was a muggle. Yet here he was, without an ounce of shame, wandering round Diagon Alley.

“Well, I suppose this is a bit late now then,” the man continued, seemingly perfectly fine with letting his child do an impression of an octopus stuck to Snape’s leg. “But, Charity, my wife, she went missing and, no-one would tell me where she was, or what they knew. Sometimes I think wizards view muggles as children, who have to be coddled because they’re incapable of dealing with the truth. I thought I was going to go insane, just the not knowing. Then, one day, I got a letter, telling me she was dead and that I had to take Faith and go into hiding. It doesn’t sound like it would be comforting..” He paused as a tear trickled from his eye; instead of wiping it, he just gulped and carried on talking. “We had to flee, but I don’t think I would have been able to, if it weren’t for that letter. If I hadn’t known, for definite, she was gone.”

Snape looked down at the child, who was beaming up at him. Avoiding looking at the crying man in front him, he tried to edge backwards. The muggle finally wiped his eyes.

“Yes, well, I don’t remember,” Snape ground out. The man gave him a watery smile. 

“Faith’ll be going to Hogwarts this year,” the muggle said wistfully. Snape made a noncommittal noise and wondered how quickly he could get away from here without being rude.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to attend to.” Snape said, wincing; he could almost _hear_ Lily in his head, laughing at him for being so horrible in delicate social situations. The muggle, though, looked understanding and nodded sagely.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to be to forward. I just wanted you to know. Come on, Faith, say goodbye.”

The half-blood finally released him and the two started walking away.

“Goodbye, Professor!” the girl called out, “I’ll see you at school! I’m going to be in Slytherin too!”

Her father took her hand but then turned back to Snape. 

“You will keep an eye on her, won’t you? Her name’s Faith Burbage.”

Snape gave another curt nod, but they were already strolling away. He snorted softly to himself. Slytherin was no place for a half-blood, as he knew all too well.

* * *

Getting home took forever. He wanted to try Apparating again, but he couldn’t remember quite how he had done it. He must have a licence as the Ministry had not written to him about his trip to Spinner's End from Hogwarts. It would be mortifying if he splinched himself and all he could remember about his previous attempt was what it had felt like; it had been like the unfocused rush of wild childhood magic, unpredictable and unconscious. Apparently the floo at Spinner’s End was locked, he couldn’t get through from the Leaky Cauldron. McGonagall had managed to firecall him though, so perhaps his floo was open to her office floo. 

Assuming that she was still at Grimmauld place, he flooed straight to her office. Unfortunately, she had already returned and she greeted him with an unimpressed expression. 

“Mr Snape! To what do I owe this privilege?”

“Professor! I..I seem to be experiencing some difficulties returning to my home,” Snape said as politely as he could, he loathed appearing weak in front of the Head of Gryffindor. She merely raised a surprised eyebrow at him before humming gently to herself. It was rather meaningful that his older self had kept the Spinner’s End floo unlocked for her, but now was not the time to ponder it.

“You are welcome to stay at Hogwarts, Mr Snape. It might even be more convenient, as you adjust.” 

Snape shook his head quickly, as nice as those rooms were, they didn’t feel as comforting as Spinner’s End.

“I shall return before the beginning of September.”

“Naturally,” McGonagall sniffed, “Sit down. I’ll see if I’ve got anything useful for you.”

She pulled open various drawers in her desk before giving a soft cry of triumph and pulling out a small lump of metal. 

“I suppose you remember Gryffindor’s quidditch winning streak? Not sure we lost a single Cup all the time you were a student.” Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair, he really had very little interest in quidditch. ”Well, it continued, even after you started teaching here. Finally, Slytherin won the Cup in ‘85 and you came in here, after years of us sniping at one another about who had the better team. I think, really, you had come to gloat, but you brought a bottle of firewhiskey, so I didn’t really mind. We celebrated like that every year since. Until recently.”

The old witch looked suspiciously wet eyed, but she picked up her wand and started waving it and muttering over the lump of metal on the desk before Snape could be sure that those really were tears in her eyes. No matter what else he thought about McGonagall, her transfiguration work was always amazing to watch. The metal slowly reformed itself into a cloak pin with a little green snake on the front. McGonagall kept on working, a slight frown on her face, but the pin didn’t seem to be changing shape anymore. 

Suddenly the witch slumped back with a gasp. Snape looked from her to the pin and back again, he wasn’t sure if she had achieved what she had been hoping for or not.

“My gift to you, Severus.” McGonagall said, reaching over the desk and sticking the pin into his cloak. “It’s a Portkey, or rather, it’s an Apparatingkey. Rather special, even though I say so myself. Touch it and say ‘home’ and it will transport you there. I imagine, at the moment, it will take you to Spinner's End but, as you’re perception of home changes, so will the destination.”

Snape touched it in wonder. Such a gift must be worth a small fortune, and McGonagall had just given it to him; had just made it for him. 

“I...Thank you, Professor,” he said, his mouth snapping shut as he realised he had no idea what to say to this kind gesture. 

“Hmm, well.” McGonagall straightened a pile of papers on her desk with a brisk efficiency, “it’s not always the most reliable form of transport, but it should serve for now. Well, go on then. Give it a go!”

Snape had touched the pin and said ‘home’ before even thinking to say goodbye to the old witch. The sensation of travelling was not entirely pleasant, but it was blissfully short. He landed with an ungainly thump on the floor of the front room at Spinner’s End. His momentary calm was disturbed as someone knocked heavily on his front door. Snape scowled, he couldn’t imagine anyone from the wizarding world knew where he lived, which meant it had to be a muggle. He would have ignored it, but the stranger was incredibly persistent. 

Snape stormed to the door and threw it open with a snarl. He’d meant to yell at whoever was standing there, but he was so surprised that the shout died on his lips. 

“Malfoy?” he said wonderingly. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this was Lucius’ son. They looked almost identical, and yet as subtly different as Potter and his father. Potter was the spitting image of his father, and yet somehow managed to look lithe and beautiful; Malfoy had all the bone structure of Lucius, but without his elegance. This Malfoy seemed vain and cocky, where his father had been confidently seductive. 

“Professor, may I come in?” the boy asked, already shouldering his way into the hallway and headed for the front room. “I heard you were in Knockturn Alley this afternoon,” Malfoy said before throwing himself down into an inelegant sprawl on the ratty sofa, “And I just had to see for myself. So tell me, how did you do it? And, more importantly, why didn’t you share?”

“I have no idea why you think you have the right to come barging in here - “

“Severus..” the boy paused as he saw the look of outrage on Snape’s face, ”Snape. Professor. It’s me, Draco Malfoy, you saved my life. You can tell me anything, I’d never tell. Now, you’ve done a wonderful job of fooling everyone else, but really, this whole _youngified_ thing is really quite ridiculous.”

The pompous little brat gave a condescending smile as he peered up at him. It was the same smile as Lucius had so graciously bestowed on him whenever he had created a new potion, or had done something that the Dark Lord would approve of. The kind of smile a person gave a dog that had learnt a new trick. He’d fallen for the promises that smile offered once before, and he had no intention of doing so again.

“If you leave now, Mr Malfoy, I will, with immense restraint, refrain from hexing you; however, should you decide to linger then I cannot be responsible for my actions.”

Draco’s face fell, his cockiness seeming to slip away as he screwed his face into an angry scowl. 

“I just came to see if it were true,” he muttered, before standing up. “All those years, all that time, I always thought I was your favourite. Everyone else hero-worshipped Potter, but at least I always had you, because you hated him even more than I did. Now I learn you were looking out for him the entire time!”

Snape drew himself up, noting proudly that he was taller than this Malfoy. 

“Do not make me repeat myself, Malfoy. I am not making idle threats, I have no wish to listen to the brayings of another spoilt Malfoy. Now leave.”

Malfoy spluttered in outrage, clearly shocked to hear Snape talk in such a way to him. No wonder his older self had welcomed death after having to spend twenty years sucking up to imbeciles like this. The boy stared at him for so long that Snape opened his mouth to issue another threat. This time, though, Malfoy appeared to understand. He flounced from the room, slamming the front door behind him as he left. 

Snape sank wearily into his father’s armchair. He’d spoken to more people today than he had in the past month and he was exhausted.


	6. Chapter 6

_EXCLUSIVE! Auror Dawlish Speaks Out For The First Time!_

_We find out what life was like for those who worked in the Ministry when You-Know-Who was controlling it._

_”We knew something was wrong, but if anyone asked any questions they’d turn up dead the next day. We were living in fear as much as the rest of the country, maybe more so because we knew the Death Eaters were watching our every move.” Auror Dawlish, 46, told.._

Snape tossed the newspaper aside, it was a complete waste of a knut. He’d spent the last two weeks scouring the bookshelves of Spinner’s End, he had read every potions log his older self had written and spent hours every day studying his NEWT textbooks. The school term began in two weeks and he could not bear the thought that he would be behind the other students. Undoubtedly they would all think of him as his older self and his every action and spell would be scrutinised; but he would show them. He would not be made into a laughing stock. 

Potter had written to him a few days before and the unanswered letter lay crumpled on the kitchen table. Smoothing it out, Snape read it through for the umpteenth time. 

_Dear Mr Snape,_

_I’m sorry about how I behaved in the Leaky Cauldron._

_I was wondering if I could come and visit you? I have some more things of yours. Nothing bad, I promise. Just let me know when’s a good time._

_Yours,  
Harry Potter _

Snape balled the paper up again. He loathed the presumption of the little twerp. How dare he invite himself into Snape’s home. On the other hand, Snape was curious about what other things of his Potter had and what he would expect in return. He hadn’t demanded anything for Snape’s memories back, but then he was a Potter and, thus, congenitally untrustworthy.

With a flick of his wand, he wordlessly set the letter on fire. It would be only Slytherin of him to allow the _Chosen One_ into his home, but there were two problems. He refused to meet Potter until he had viewed those memories, until he did Potter had an advantage over him. Secondly, without an owl and no idea where Potter lived, there were very few ways of contacting the brat. 

He hated having to send his message by Patronus, he hadn’t even known it was possible until he’d read the handwritten instructions in one of his older self’s books. It seemed like such an intimate means of communication, but he didn’t really have any choice. Clearing his mind of all distractions, he pictured Lily in the park where they had played as children, he remembered the little boats they would make to launch onto the pond there. He remembered how they would sit under the tree in the sunshine and Lily would look at him with a smile, her face full of love and trust. 

“Expecto Patronum.”

His doe burst forth from his wand and he leaned down to relay his message.

“Potter! You may come round this afternoon at three. Do not be late.”

The doe had already left before he realised that he hadn’t told Potter who the message was from. There was no way that Potter would know that the doe was his Patronus. He shrugged, if Potter couldn’t work it out then he didn’t deserve the invitation.

Steeling himself, he went upstairs to view the memories in the tiny Pensieve he’d found stashed away in the drawer of his bedside table.

* * *

It was so strange to see his entire friendship with Lily summed up in so few interludes. The arguments they’d been having in the lead up to that afternoon at the lake seemed suddenly far more relevant than they had before. Of course, he’d known she was unhappy that he was friends with Avery and Mulciber, but he’d never actually dreamed that Lily really believed he was becoming a Dark wizard.

How could she have failed to see how alone he was? She had been his only friend and when, suddenly, people in his own House had wanted to be friends he had leapt at the chance. Now, now that he knew the consequences of their friendship he regretted it; he loathed Malfoy and his cronies who had snared Snape with promises of friendship and acceptance and all he had to do in exchange was engage in the Dark Arts that he had always found so fascinating anyway. 

He had been so angry at Lily. He had thought that she had ended their friendship over a slip of the tongue, over one word spoken in anger. Only now did he realise that it had just been the final straw for her. 

He watched Dumbledore _comfort_ him after Lily’s death. Despite McGonagall’s claims that Dumbledore and he had been friendly, he could not believe it. All he saw was the old coot manipulating him into a lifetime of double dealing as he lay crying and grieving. 

Snape had already been told why he had killed Dumbledore and, although it felt odd to see those scenes unfold, they seemed so disconnected from him that he could barely feel anything for them. 

He watched another scene with Dumbledore, but this time what the old man was saying struck him. Potter had had a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul inside him. Potter had been a Horcrux. He probably still was, since Snape had been told everything that had happened in the War and there had been no mention of Potter being killed. 

Why had Potter given this memory back to him when it contained such sensitive information? If word got out that Potter had such a link to the Dark Lord then he would be reviled more than Snape ever had been. 

The scenes continued to play out in front of him, most of which he had already heard about until, finally, Snape fell out of the memory with a gasp and collapsed onto his bed. 

He lay staring up at the ceiling. For all the questions and revelations the memories had stirred up the thing that struck him hardest was seeing Lily alive again. He knew that she was dead, but lying here like this it seemed so untrue. He had always just been able to walk ten minutes to her house, knock on her front door and see her. Even after they’d stopped being friends, she was still _there,_ still only ten minutes away, even if she no longer wanted to see him. It seemed impossible that that was no longer true. 

He got up and picked up the little bottle of memories, he would put it somewhere safe and out of the way. The back of the wardrobe was always his favourite spot to hide things, but when he placed the bottle back there he saw a tiny little chest, no bigger than the palm of his hand, was already tucked into his hiding spot. 

Picking it up carefully, he recognised it at once. It was his school trunk. His older self must have miniaturised it. Had he left more messages or information for Snape? With a wordless wave of his wand, he restored it to it’s original size. Throwing back the lid revealed stacks of neatly folded clothes. Snape took the clothes out carefully, but there was nothing else in there at all.

The clothes were all his. There weren’t any of the new clothes that Malfoy had bought him, but they were, nevertheless, his own clothes. Since he had woken up in this time he had been wearing his older self’s clothes, transfigured to fit his thinner body. His older self certainly had good taste in clothing, and the material and cuts were expensive, but none of them truly felt like they belonged to him.

He undressed quickly, then pulled on his father’s old greying shirt and his mother’s dark blue smock. He’d always hated these clothes, and been so pathetically grateful to Lucius for spending a few Galleons to buy him some decent clothes. Now these hand-me-downs seemed reassuringly familiar. 

Potter would probably laugh at him for his ragged clothes. Damn him, he would not change out of these comfortable clothes just to appease Potter’s sensibilities. Just because Potter had been raised by a godfather who was richer than a goblin king didn’t mean everyone else had been.

* * *

Potter knocked on the door at exactly three o’clock. Snape took his time answering the door.

Snape held the front door open and made Potter squeeze past him to get into the narrow hallway. Potter wasn’t wearing wizarding robes, in fact he looked decidedly muggle. His tight jeans hugged his pert little arse as Potter sauntered provocatively into the front room. Who would have thought Sirius Black would have raised his godson to be such a tease. 

“Well?” Snape said, refusing to give Potter permission to sit down. Potter stood awkwardly, hovering next to the sofa. “You said you had some things of mine.” Snape continued as Potter stared at him gormlessly.

“Oh, yes! You got an Order of Merlin,” Potter said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the large medal. Snape saw the words _First Class_ glinting in the gold. His mouth went suddenly very, very dry. Potter just held the award out, but Snape didn’t move to take it. He just stared at Potter, searching for some clue of the prank that was bound to follow. Finally, after standing in silence for several seconds, Potter realised that something was wrong, that Snape would not lower himself by showing just how much he wanted an Order of Merlin.

“I’ll just leave it here then,” Potter said, putting the medal down on the side table, “The ceremony was while you were asleep. You didn’t really miss much though.”

Potter fumbled in his pockets, this time bringing out a tiny envelope. Snape whipped his wand from his pocket as fast as he was able, rather than give Potter the chance to get his wand out. The look of shock on Potter’s face was beautiful. 

“I was only going to un-shrink this for you!” Potter said sounding annoyed. Snape just sneered and wordlessly performed the spell, while the envelope was still in Potter’s hand. The boy gave a small yelp and dropped it on the floor. 

“Such a hero, Potter, scared by paper changing size,” Snape said gleefully, before remembering he was supposed to be encouraging Potter’s friendship. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to do it wordlessly. No wonder you expected everyone to be able to do it; it came naturally to you.”

“Naturally to me? I would have thought, Potter, that the mortal enemy of the Dark Lord would have known the importance of hard work, of constantly studying, to be as good at spellwork as possible. Or are you just as lazy as your dear father?”

Potter spluttered, his expression torn between anger and sadness. As fun as this was he had more important things to discuss with the brat. 

“I’m not my father, I never even really met him! Stop judging me when you don’t even know me!” Potter practically yelled, before sitting down, uninvited, on Snape’s sofa. 

Snape smiled maliciously. 

“By all means, sit down, Potter. You and I should have a nice little chat, all about Horcruxes.” Snape said sarcastically. Potter burst into a grin, his previous ill-humour vanishing.

“Merlin! I’d love that! Ron and Hermione told me not to tell anyone about it. They seemed to think that it was some great taboo among wizards. But I died! I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen! Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Quite sure,” Snape sneered. It hardly counted as Slytherin cunning if Potter was so desperate to unburden himself that he just gave away all his secrets. “Why don’t you start by telling me how you were made into a Horcrux.”

The little sap didn’t even deny it. He just launched into his story.

* * *

Snape was so distracted by what he’d heard that when he wandered into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, he almost made Potter one as well. Luckily, he remembered himself in time.

“Snape?” the little bastard called out, disturbing his thoughts. “What’s wrong?” the impatient idiot yelled again. Snape took his tea into the front room and sat down opposite Potter, not missing the hurt glance when the brat realised he wasn’t going to be offered any tea. Putting his cup down, Snape wondered how best to explain to him the magnitude of what Potter had told him. Across from him, Potter looked increasingly impatient.

“Well? Say something!”

Snape narrowed his eyes, his finger unconsciously tracing his lips, an echo of the gesture his mother would make every time she was thinking about how to phrase things diplomatically, in a way that wouldn’t start a fight with his father. Snape stopped himself. 

“Wizards are, by and large, sheep who quiver in fear at the mere mention of the Dark Arts. You were a Horcrux, that is the Darkest Magic known to the Wizarding World. How do you think they would react to finding out exactly what their Saviour was?”

Potter paled considerably. Surely his little friends had already told him this? Why was Potter listening to him, when he was only repeating to him how taboo Horcruxes were?

“If the public found out they would probably lock you in Azkaban. Do you understand?” 

Potter gulped and nodded. It was a lie; although he didn’t know for certain, Snape was fairly sure there was no law about Horcruxes. After all, he had spent hours going through the laws on Dark Arts and he had seen nothing about them then. 

“Oh, Gods!” Potter whined, sweeping a hand through his hair almost like he was trying to flatten it, “I knew Ron and Hermione thought it was really serious, but I didn’t think..Not Azkaban!”

If James Potter had just realised that Snape knew his darkest secret then he would have been throwing insults and threats at Snape, cursing him if he ever dared tell anyone. This Potter was doing no such thing. He just sat there looking slightly worried; as if the two of them were in this together; as if Potter trusted him, as if they were friends. 

It gave him an immense rush of power. Harry Potter, the Chosen One, trusted him with his secrets.

“As long as you keep your mouth shut I’m sure you will avoid incarceration. Who else knows?”

“Just Ron and Hermione, and we hunted them together, so they understand. I was going to tell Ginny, but it just never feels like the right time...”

Snape hid his annoyance by taking a large gulp of tea. Tonight he was going to wank to thoughts of Potter looking up at him as he asked for advice about Horcruxes. The mental image would be ruined if he had to listen to Potter drivel on about the ginger slut. 

“And she _always_ wants to kiss, and then whatever; but it just doesn’t feel right, especially...Do you think it’s alright if two wizards like each other? Like like each other? Because Ron’s never even heard of it not being alright.”

Snape clutched his teacup. Pretty Potter being indebted to him might be a fantasy he could wank over later, but the prospect of a lithe young man coming to him for sexual advice was making him hard now. Snape arranged his smock over his lap and cursed his prick for having a mind of its own.

“Exactly why would it not be _alright?_ ”

“Aunt Petunia always said - ”

“Tuney!” Snape spat out, “Why would anyone listen to that muggle!?”

“Yeah, I mean, not cos she’s a muggle, but she wasn’t great when I was growing up, but -”

“Where was Black whilst you were enjoying the attentions of your aunt?”

Potter squirmed in his seat. 

“I guess, there’s so much to tell you that McGonagall left bits out, huh? Sirius, well, he went to Godric’s Hollow the night that... Everyone thought that he was the Secret Keeper but he wasn’t. They’d changed it, so it was Peter Pettigrew. Anyway, he went to get revenge on Pettigrew, but Pettigrew staged his own death and so everyone thought it was Sirius that had betrayed my parents. He was locked up in Azkaban for twelve years, I didn’t even know he was my godfather. So, yeah, I was raised by the Dursleys.”

Snape wracked his brain, the name was definitely familiar. There had been an afternoon last Christmas holiday when Lily had forced him to spend time with Tuney and her horrible muggle boyfriend. The two of them had spent the entire time making stupid remarks about his ill-fitting clothes, he had retaliated with comments about the man’s weight. Lily had been upset with him afterwards, but he’d only been defending himself. 

“Vernon Dursley.” Snape said bitterly, Potter gasped and sat back heavily on the sofa.

“That’s so weird, that you know Uncle Vernon. I always thought you seemed so -”

“When did Black set out on his ill-conceived plan for revenge?” Snape interrupted, he had no wish to hear Potter’s thoughts about his older self, or to bond over shared recollections of Tuney or Dursley.

“Well, straight away, as soon as he realised what had happened.”

“Whilst you remained in the house with the corpses of your parents?” Snape asked sarcastically, to his astonishment Potter nodded.

“He was really emotional, it’s understandable.”

It was most definitely not understandable. Even with all his Dark Arts, he would have made a much better godfather to Lily’s son. He would never have left his godson behind whilst he chased after revenge.

“Oh shi - I mean, I have to go. I’ve got an appointment at Gringotts, the goblins are still pretty angry at me. So, I’ll see you, um, later. At Hogwarts, right?”

Snape nodded and stood to show Potter out, but the rude shit just stood and Apparated away without the courtesy of leaving by the front door first. Glancing down, he realised that Potter had left something behind. It was the envelope that Potter had brought for him. Tearing it open too quickly, a small shiny badge fell out and bounced on the ground. A quick look at the papers showed that this was just his Hogwarts booklist. When he bent to pick up the thing that had fallen out, he realised that it was a Prefect’s badge. 

That was almost better than the Order of Merlin; which, really, belonged to his older self. Being a Prefect was something tangible that he could truly understand. His face split into a genuine grin, he could really terrorise the Gryffindors with this.


	7. Chapter 7

There was still one week until term started and Snape had exhausted the resources available to him at Spinner’s End. Today he had returned to Hogwarts; finally, he could look through his older self’s room properly, plus he wanted to thank Professor McGonagall properly.

She wasn’t in her office though. Snape supposed that, as she was Headmistress now, she had probably changed offices. He let out an annoyed sigh and set off for the Headmaster’s Tower. Only when he arrived did he remember that he had no way of getting in to see her, as he didn’t know the password. Before he could turn to leave the gargoyle guarding the office moved aside, letting him pass, even though he hadn’t said a word. Snape supposed it was the magic recognising that he had once been Headmaster. 

The Headmistress’ office was empty and quiet except for the odd ticking noises coming from various magical artefacts littered around the room. 

“Professor? Headmistress?” Snape called out. 

“She’s not here,” a familiar voice called out. Looking round Snape saw where the voice was coming from. It was a portrait of his older self. 

He knew that he’d been Headmaster for a year, but he had not expected to see a portrait up here. His older self had been in the memories but he hadn’t really had time to take note of his appearance. Snape stared unashamedly. His face looked different, his nose always looked too large for his teenaged face, but it suited his adult face. His skin looked paler, his hair greasier and his teeth yellowed; it was as if, at some stage, his older self had just stopped caring about his appearance. Snape supposed that a spy who constantly faced death hardly had time to worry about such mundane things; he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let the same thing happen to him. In fact, he was going to wash his hair as soon as he returned to Spinner’s End. 

Next to the portrait of Headmaster Snape was a portrait of Dumbledore.

“Severus, or rather, Mr Snape, I should say. I am very glad to see you looking so well,” Dumbledore said, smiling his duplicitous smile. The last time they’d spoken Dumbledore had told him that Black wasn’t going to be expelled, despite attempting to murder him. Snape sneered angrily. He could never forgive Dumbledore for that. “Ah, I see that your potion worked completely. I had wondered. Of course, I am happy for you, but I do wish that it hadn’t come at the cost of our friendship.”

“Albus,” the older Snape cut in, but rather than say anything else he just stared transfixed at his younger self.

“I got your letter,” Snape blurted out, unsure what to say to this version of himself. Headmaster Snape nodded slowly. 

“Then you know what I expect from you. Have you met Potter yet?”

Snape felt himself blushing. Frowning quickly, he tried to hide his body's reaction, but it was difficult when Potter had become the star of his nightly wank fantasies.

“Sweet Merlin,” Headmaster Snape hissed, “Albus! Surely I was never this obvious!”

Dumbledore chuckled merrily and Snape felt oddly left out. He disliked the easy camaraderie that existed between the two men; his older self should be on his side, not Dumbledore’s. 

“Well, Severus, you were hoping for a fresh start. I would say that you definitely have that.”

The two portraits looked down at him, Dumbledore twinkling happily whilst Snape’s gaze remained unreadable. Without wishing either of them good bye, Snape turned and left.

“Little idiot,” the portrait of Snape muttered bitterly, just loudly enough for Snape to hear.

“Now, now, Severus, I think he’ll do very well indeed,” Dumbledore said fondly as Snape shut the door behind him. Snape made his way through the deserted hallways until he finally saw another person.

Stumbling through the Entrance Hall was a figure he recognised; it was the groundskeeper, Hagrid. The brute was as ugly as ever, he barely looked any older, just very tired. 

“Sev’rus? Sev’rus! That you? Dare say you remember me, do yeh?”

“I do,” Snape acknowledged in a bored tone. He remembered Hagrid very clearly as the groundskeeper would constantly hunt Snape down when he went looking for fresh potion ingredients in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid would yell at him and threaten him detentions, which he didn’t even have the authority to give out, but Snape _knew_ that if he had been in Gryffindor, Hagrid would have helped him track down the plants he needed.

“Aye, well,” the oaf gave a loud sniff and took out his stripy hanky, “I hoped I’d run into yeh. I remember when you was a wee lad, runnin’ into the Forest and I...” Hagrid dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief, “I shouldn’ta been so quick to judge, just cos you was in Slytherin shouldn’ta mean’ nothing! You’re a good lad, Sev’rus.”

Snape shuffled uncomfortably. The Marauders had been bullies, but Hagrid had always been a symbol of the institutionalised bias against Slytherins that pervaded Hogwarts. 

“Thank you,” Snape muttered, but the large man wasn’t paying attention, he was too wrapped up in his own misery.

“I got somethin’ fer you,” Hagrid continued, reaching a large hand into a pocket of his cavernous coat and pulling out a small kitten. “He’s only a coupla months old. I foun’ him all alone in the Forest and he needs a good home, I’d take him in meself, but I reckon he’d be happies’ with you.”

The little kitten dangled in the air as Hagrid held him out to Snape by the scruff of his neck. The creature let out a piteous mewl, Snape quickly snatched him up and pulled the poor animal to his chest.

“Yeh’ll take him in then?”

Snape looked down at the kitten. When he was younger he had wanted a pet so much, but his parents had always said it was too expensive. He had known that wasn't the only reason, his parents barely had time for him and a pet would have been another annoyance for them. Once, he’d found a kitten, probably the same age as this small thing, in one of the abandoned factories. That had been before he’d met Lily and he spent the whole day talking to his new friend until his jaw ached from overuse. Then he’d taken her home. His father had flown into a massive rage; angry that Snape hadn’t listened to him and not given him the _respect_ he felt he deserved. So, he’d shown Snape what muggles were really like. He’d dragged Snape down to the canal and made him watch as he’d drowned the kitten. 

Snape hugged the cat in his arms closer. 

“Sev’rus? Yeh’ll look after him?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you.” Snape said, trying not to show how much Hagrid’s gift had affected him. Everyone knew how obsessed with animals Hagrid was, giving Snape this cat was far more meaningful than any apology he could have given Snape. 

The kitten began purring and rubbing it’s head against Snape’s chest. Snape swallowed the inappropriate and shameful lump in his throat. It was, after all, only a kitten, it shouldn’t be affecting him this much. 

“You let me know if yeh need anything, alrigh’ Sev’rus?” Hagrid said, putting his handkerchief away, “can’ be easy losing twenty years overnight, but yeh’re amongs’ friends here.”

Hagrid patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. For a second Snape was worried the man was going to hug him, but he just carried on patting his shoulder. Finally, he stopped and, with a muttered goodbye and a loud sniff, Hagrid ambled away.

Snape looked down at the kitten in his arms, who stared back at him solemnly. 

“Hello,” Snape said quietly, feeling like a fool for talking out loud to a cat. The cat purred more loudly. 

“I’m going to call you...” Snape thought for a minute, “Caracalla. He was one of the Severan emperors.”

Caracalla batted his nose playfully, the creature probably had some kneazle blood in him; he seemed more intelligent than a normal cat. Snape slipped the cat into the pocket of his robe. Caracalla arranged himself in there, sticking his head out and making no move to jump out. 

“Good boy,” Snape said as he petted the kitten’s head. He wouldn’t be able to make any potions today, the fumes would be too dangerous for a kitten, but he could still go and investigate his older self’s bookshelf. Making his way down to the dungeons, he kept his hand on Carcalla, just in case the cat decided to run away. He was petting the cat thoughtlessly, scratching behind his ears when he turned a corner and almost walked straight into Potter.

“Snape!” the little idiot beamed at him,” I didn’t know you were at Hogwarts!”

Snape opened his mouth to respond, but Potter’s verbal onslaught continued.

“Ooh, Hagrid gave you the kitten! He’s been wanting to give him to you since he found him! Do you like him? Are you going to keep him?”

Snape felt himself blush, he would not be teased for liking the kitten. Lots of wizards had familiars and he would not let Potter embarrass him just because he had already become fond of the thing.

“Is that any of your business, Potter?”

“No, no. I was just asking, cos you never really seemed like the sort of person to have a familiar, and certainly not a something so sweet - ”

Snape saw red. Of course this Potter was just the same as his father, exploiting any weakness that Snape showed, laughing at him. Well, not this time.

“Are you never silent, you mimsy fucking dullard?”

“Hey! Look, I’m doing everything I can to be friends. You want some space? That’s fine! But there’s no need to be rude! I never did anything to you. You don’t even know me!” Potter yelled, stepping closer to Snape. 

“I know you’re the reason Lily died, if you’d never been born then she’d still be alive!”

The words came out almost unbidden; all the weeks of grief and self-hatred suddenly released in a moment anger. Snape panted heavily, as if saying those words had taken a physical toll on him. Potter just stared at him, wide eyed. He knew what was coming, he knew exactly what Potter would say next. A child couldn’t be blamed for being born; it wasn’t Potter’s fault that Lily was dead, it was his. He had betrayed her when he had relayed the prophecy to the Dark Lord. Now, finally, Potter would tell him that he blamed Snape for making him an orphan. Potter would point out the guilt that hung so heavily to Snape, and he would have every right to do so. 

Snape raised himself to his full height, threw back his shoulders and resisted the urge to hex Potter. It shouldn’t be taking this long. 

Potter still hadn’t moved, in fact he was just staring at Snape.

“I have your book,” Potter said quietly. Snape deflated slightly, this was not the response he’d been expecting. “Your Advanced Potions book? The Half-Blood Prince’s book?”

“What!?” Snape yelled incredulously. 

“Well, you left it here, and I didn’t have my potions book, so I found it.”

“Found it, Potter?” Snape spat, all his previous rage finding a new outlet as he realised what Potter must have done.

“Yeah, it was brilliant! I mean, you’re a Potions genius, I learnt so much from you!”

“Really?” Snape’s voice became quieter as he thought through exactly how angry he was at the boy. Potter obviously recognised this as a sign of danger, as he started to look worried for the first time since their argument had begun. 

“Not that I - I mean, it wasn’t cheating, or anything!”

“Not cheating? You _found_ someone else’s book, did you ignore the changes I had made to the potions? Or did you, as I think rather more likely, pass off the improvements as your own work? When Slughorn gave you an Outstanding for a potion, did you refuse it, telling him it wasn’t your hard work, but that of the half-blood Prince? Hmm? I doubt it. Oh no, when Potter is handed a book full of improved recipes he _deserves_ it!”

“No! NO! It wasn’t like that! Why do you always misunderstand everything I say?”

“And the spells, Potter?” Snape was too enraged to listen to anything Potter had to say to him now. “What did you think of the spells in there? Did you steal some of those?”

“I, yeah, I used a few. Muffliato and Sectumsempra.” Potter muttered, his demeanor suddenly changing as he looked down at his feet. Snape gaped at him. He didn’t recognise Muffliato, he must have invented that one later. 

Sectumsempra, however, he knew intimately. 

“Tell me you did nothing so idiotic as use a spell when you were entirely ignorant of its effects. Surely, even you, would be incapable of doing anything so dim-witted!”

“It said it was for enemies, and Malfoy was about to use an Unforgivable on me!”

Snape paused. As often as he’d thought about using Sectumsempra he hadn’t actually used it on a person yet. He’d only used it on dead creatures that had to be cut up for potion parts; he hadn’t dared, not until he found a way to heal the cuts as well.

“He was cut badly? But then he was healed?”

“Yeah, I thought, I thought I’d killed him, but then you, that is, Professor Snape, came along and said this chant and it healed him.”

Snape’s anger slipped away as he pondered the possibilities of a healing chant. He generally avoided that whole magical medium, preferring the reassuring solidness of potions ingredients, as opposed to undependable chants that might not work if he muttered something with the wrong tone of voice. 

“I am sorry, about your book. I shouldn’t have taken credit for those potions. It’s just, it was so amazing. After that incident with Malfoy, I hid it in the Room of Requirement. But then, during the Battle, the room got burned. I was so terrified that you were dead, and that your book was gone, I had to go back and search for it. It was like I’d lost another piece of you, and I hadn’t even realised how important - ”

“You have the book then?” Snape interrupted Potter’s increasingly maudlin speech. He didn’t have time for this, if he could get his old NEWT textbook back then he could concentrate more on his three Guild potions. 

“You want it back?” Potter said quietly.

“Obviously.”

“Sure, yeah, that’s fine. Don’t know what I’ll do without it, Slughorn’s going to wonder why I’m suddenly rubbish.”

Snape curled his lip at Potter’s obvious self-pitying.

“The Potions lab is open to everyone; I’ll be there every day. Why don’t you try actually doing some work too?”

Potter grinned. His smile was really quite breathtaking, Snape admitted to himself sourly. He’d be damned before he admitted that out loud though.

“You wouldn’t mind? If I went down there and we spent time together?”

“We would not be _spending time together,_ we would be making potions in the same room. At the same time. In complete silence.”

Potter continued to beam at him, Snape savagely repressed the urge to return his smile. It had been so long since anyone had looked so genuinely happy to see him. Potter looked like that just at the prospect of spending more time with him, not even because it would gain him anything. Snape suddenly frowned. If Potter was so easily enamoured, then who else was he flashing that blinding smile at?


	8. Chapter 8

He had only intended to take a brief look at what potions supplies were available to the students, but now it was two hours later and he was still intrigued. He had found what must be his older self’s office and it was wonderful; hundreds of bottles lining the walls with all kinds of beautiful ingredients. The Potion’s classroom and the extra lab were equally well stocked, everything impressively organised. As much as he disliked the idea of being a teacher, his older self must have extraordinarily good at his job. Slughorn had never allowed the students access to such wonders. 

“Ah, Severus, there you are. Mr Potter said I might find you down here,” Professor McGonagall said as she strode into the Potion’s lab. Snape jumped guiltily away from the shelf of ingredients he was inspecting. Despite the way that McGonagall had treated him since he’d woken up, it was still difficult to accept this new, almost friendly version of the professor. As her words registered, Snape’s gut clenched. If she had spoken to Potter then she knew that he had blamed Potter for his mother’s death. 

“I’m glad you’ve finally decided to return to Hogwarts; I have a favour to ask you. Whilst a teacher here, Professor Snape was responsible for the Infirmary’s stock of potions. I do hope that you are able to continue that tradition,” she said sternly, holding a piece of parchment to him. 

Snape took the list gingerly. Of course, it was not his responsibility to make these potions. He could easily say no, but he only let out a sigh of relief. Potter hadn’t run to McGonagall and squealed on him. James Potter would have done, the nasty little tattle-tale. Snape’s stomach twisted a little more, the vague tension he had been feeling since he had yelled at Potter getting a little worse. 

“Naturally, as you are no longer a member of staff, it is not incumbent on you to brew them but Poppy, Madam Pomfrey, was hoping that you would. She always prefers your potions to buying from Slug and Jiggers.” Snape hesitated before looking over the list, there was nothing very taxing on here; just a few different types of pain relievers.

“Very well,” Snape said curtly, pocketing the list. He intended to do a lot of brewing over the course of the next week and it would be simple enough to make these at the same time. “I wanted to thank you, Professor, for the Apparatingkey and for making me a Prefect.”

“You’re very welcome,” the old woman raised an eyebrow, “It is a rare thing, to be able to atone for the mistakes that one has made in life. Perhaps, Mr Snape, we should both be thankful.” Snape frowned, confused. Did she mean his mistakes, or her own? Either way, it was a strikingly personal thing for her to say to him.

“Yes, Professor,” Snape said still frowning.

“If you intend to make potions in here, you should consider placing a Bubble-Head charm on your cat, and warding him in a corner,” McGonagall gave him a tight smile and, after a brisk nod, departed. Snape regarded the door thoughtfully for a minute before taking out the list of potions he had agreed to make. He could not understand McGonagall at all.

* * *

Caracalla mewled pitifully. Snape ignored the kitten’s complaints manfully and continued stirring his potion with a slow figure eight motion. Finally, when he had counted forty-seven stirs, the potion became completely transparent. His cauldron gave an odd rumble, the clear liquid beginning to move of it’s own volition in increasingly agitated waves. Quickly grabbing a phial, he tried to take a sample just in case this batch became too violent and would have to be Vanished. As soon as he touched the potion, the roiling waves ceased and the liquid became calm. With a sigh of relief, Snape took his sample.

Someone knocked on the door. As if it could sense the intrusion, the potion began to rumble again, this time bubbling in a way that Snape unfortunately knew all too well. Naturally, at that moment the door opened and Potter came in. The cauldron gave a loud bang and began to spew forth the potion straight into the air. Snape was soaked. 

After a cursory glance at a grinning Potter, who was only slightly wet, Snape went to check on Caracalla. The kitten bounded up to him, completely dry but eager to play and frustrated when he could not escape the wards. 

“Hey, you alright?” Potter asked, as Snape picked up his wand to banish the potion from his clothes. 

“I am perfectly well, no thanks to you. You should not disturb a potioneer when they are experimenting.” Snape tried to put as much venom as he could into his voice, but found his voice sounded deceptively mild. It was difficult to muster his anger properly when felt something akin to guilt for blaming Potter for Lily’s death. 

“Yeah, I was just wondering if I could use the lab.”

Snape waved his hand as if to signal that the brat had his permission. It was rather satisfying that Potter thought he needed it to work in here. Silently, he began to tidy up his experiment, noting in his log how this latest batch of his counter to Veritaserum had behaved. After ten minutes he looked up, ready to start his next experiment. In front of him Potter was preparing lacewing flies for stewing, leaning over the table so that his jeans hugged even more tightly to his arse, which was pointed directly at Snape.

He swallowed convulsively and licked his lips. Of all the men in the world to lust after, it was just his luck that his wayward cock had chosen Potter. The boy stirred the mixture, his arse wiggling slightly each time he moved. Snape decided to get a little closer, just to investigate further what Potter was doing. Snape tried to move quietly, so as not to disturb the boy, but Potter must have heard him; his head swung round and he gave Snape a cheeky grin over his shoulder. 

“Hey, are you finished?”

Snape tried not to blush, he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“What are you brewing?”

Potter turned back to his lacewing flies and prodded them half-heartedly. 

“Polyjuice Potion. I’m going to try and redo all the potions I had problems with in my sixth year.”

Snape snorted. Although Polyjuice required a lot of preparation, the actual brewing was ridiculously easy. 

“Potter,” Snape said, an internal battle waging within him. He did not want to apologise to the boy who had stolen his Potion’s book, and it seemed absurd to apologise to a Potter; however, he could only blame Lily’s death on himself and, no matter how foul her son was, he should not have said what he had. The heaviness in his stomach reminded him uncomfortably of when he had begged Lily for her forgiveness. “When we spoke earlier, I... said things which are not true.”

It wasn’t an actual apology, but it was still a struggle to say that much. Potter had turned round to face him fully, although the boy stared at the floor rather than meet Snape’s gaze.

“Thats alright. I get it. I mean, everything’s been so weird recently, and I know _why_ things are weird, you’ve just suddenly been pushed into the middle of a whole different life. Bound to upset anyone.”

Potter looked up shyly, green eyes staring out from a mess of black hair. Snape nodded slowly.

“So, you said you were experimenting? Aren’t you going to make those potions for Madam Pomfrey? She’d be ever so pleased if you did!” Potter rattled off.

“I shall make them; at the moment, however, I am attempting to invent a potion for my Masters.”

Potter bit his lower lip, and looked strangely nervous. Snape hid his smile, this boy may have vanquished the Dark Lord, but he was nervous of Severus Snape.

“I was wondering, if you knew that you have a storeroom,” Harry said, his eyes darting up to Snape’s face and watching his reaction closely.

“I am aware that my older self had an office,” Snape replied, his eyes narrowing. It was infuriating to constantly stumble across new information about his older self. Potter shook his head.

“No, this is just a storeroom. It’s on the Tapestry corridor. I could show you if you like?” Potter tilted his head, and peered up at Snape.

“Very well,” Snape said, “Show it to me.” He grabbed Potter’s hand and took a stride towards the door before even realising what he’d done. Snape dropped the smaller hand just as Potter’s stubby little fingers began to cling on to him. Snape turned slowly to see Potter still staring down at his own hand, where Snape had touched it. The boy looked almost pale; probably disgusted that Snape had dared to touch him. Well, that certainly hadn’t been his intention, it was an honest mistake. An honest, albeit mortifying, mistake. 

“Hurry up, Potter!” Snape called out as he hurried from the room, desperately wishing to be as far away from Potter and the lab as quickly as possible. Potter scrambled after him, a small smile on his face. Snape walked quickly, keeping ahead of Potter and hiding his embarrassment. 

As soon as they got to the Tapestry Corridor he knew where his older self’s storeroom was, he could sense the strong locking charm on the door. He recognised the feel of the spell at once, his older self may have cast this spell, but it was one that he had learnt from his mother. She had used it to keep her husband out of their bedroom on nights when he was especially drunk. 

“Er..so, can you get in? I don’t think Alohomora will work,” Potter said, still smiling slightly.

“And how exactly would you know that, Potter?” Snape sneered, pleased to see that Potter stopped smiling and blushed: the little thief. “Fortunately, I know the spell to unlock it.” Snape made sure to say the spell wordlessly, he rather liked the idea of a potions storeroom that only he could access. 

The door swung open to reveal shelf upon shelf of potion phials and jars of exotic ingredients. The shelves went so high there was even a ladder; it was beautiful. Snape choked back a gasp of wonder. 

“Snape? Are you alright? You look a bit off,” Potter said before sauntering into the storeroom. 

He wondered what Potter would expect in return for telling him about this place. Of course, Potter hadn’t asked for anything when he had given Snape his older self’s belongings before. However, aside from Lily, no-one had ever treated him with such magnanimity before. Snape decided to wait until Potter asked for repayment and, dismissing Potter from his mind, began a thorough examination of the heavily stacked shelves. 

He had barely finished mentally cataloguing one shelf when he realised that Potter was being suspiciously silent. The boy was sitting on one of the rungs of the ladder, idly playing with a bottle of Veritaserum. It would be so easy to send him away with a snide remark, but it was oddly nice to have a companion. Especially one who had willing told Snape his darkest secret and was thus obligated to Snape. 

“So, what do you think?” Potter asked, finally noticing that Snape was looking at him.

“My older self kept this room well stocked,” Snape said lightly, underplaying what a treasure trove this room was, just in case Potter did expect compensation for informing him of its existence. 

“Yeah...I’d better get going. I’m supposed to be meeting Ginny later,” Potter said sadly, placing the Veritaserum back on the shelf, “I’m not sure what to tell her though. We still haven’t officially got back together, but she acts like we have. Kind of been avoiding her, but tonight is dinner at the Weasley’s.”

Snape hid his surprise. Really, by now, he should be used to Potter’s easy confidences. 

“If you’re not attracted to her then it seems rather futile to continue.” Snape said, trying his hardest to sound friendly. Lily had never asked him for relationship advice and he had no idea how it was done. 

“Yeah, I’ve realised it’s not going to work out but -” Harry stopped abruptly as a ginger haired boy loomed over the threshold of the storeroom. 

“Harry! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing in _here?_ He can’t give you detentions anymore!” the lanky interloper whined. The smile that had been playing across Snape’s lips fell, it was rather pleasing to hear about Potter’s burgeoning sexuality and this interruption was an annoyance. He might not have any chance with Potter, but it was still valuable material for his evening wank. He’d be damned before he let Potter know that he thought him attractive; he’d made the mistake of being too obvious with Graham Bardget and he would not make that mistake again. 

“Yeah, I’m just coming. Oh, Snape, this is Ron Weasley by the way.” Potter said, standing up. Snape nodded at the boy, but the ginger just glared back at him. Snape scowled and turned back to the shelves. 

“Alright, well. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Er, bye, Snape.” 

“Good-bye, Potter,” Snape said grudgingly, not turning around to see Potter go. 

“Merlin, you’re lucky I found you. I can’t believe that git was making you..” the ginger’s obnoxious voice was barely lowered as they walked away.

“Ron! Don’t -” Potter’s voice was lost as the pair turned the corner at the end of the corridor.

Strangely, after he’d left, the storeroom seemed too quiet. Snape’s previous excitement at perusing his new found potions seemed to evaporate. With a sigh, and most of the room yet to be explored, Snape left, spelling the door locked behind him.

* * *

“Why don’t you flavour your potions?” Potter asked as he butchered his gurdyroots, “The healing potions from Slug and Jiggers are all flavoured.” Snape clenched his jaw. He had not really believed that Potter would be in the potions lab for a second day running. Potter’s father had certainly abhorred studying and he had rather expected the same from the son.

“It is an unnecessary complication,” Snape muttered, keeping an eye on his heavily boiling potion. 

“Oh, so it’s too difficult?” Potter said, with that cheeky grin that infuriated Snape. 

“No, it is unnecessary,” Snape said, more forcefully this time. 

“So..You could? You could make that one cherry flavour if you wanted to?” 

“I could make it any flavour I so wished. I seem to recall telling you that we would be working in complete silence, kindly return your attention to your own _concoction._ ”

Potter shot him a hurt glance and dumped his roots straight into his cauldron. It really was no wonder he needed to practice brewing, he was completely unskilled. Snape shuddered to think what hell teaching him must have been. Nevertheless, he fetched the pickled cherries from the shelf; he’d show Potter exactly how good a potioneer he was.

* * *

“Come here, Potter,” Snape said, his voice low. Potter stopped scrubbing the cauldron he had practically ruined when he had overheated his potion. 

“What is it?” he asked, even as he walked towards him. Snape smiled tightly, such unquestioning obedience should be rewarded, after all. 

“Taste this,” Snape pushed a small cup of his cherry flavoured Pain Relieving potion into Potter’s hand. The trusting idiot immediately took a sip of it. 

“Wow, that’s really good! You really made it taste like cherries!” Potter beamed up at him, his lips stained a dark red by the potion. The biting retort that came so easily to Snape was completely forgotten as he stared at those lips, and then, without even thinking about why he was doing it, he lifted a finger and gently caressed the bottom lip with his finger. It was wet and delicate and he could feel the potion smearing onto his skin. 

Potter stood absolutely still, completely frozen, then gave a soft gasp, opening his lips as he did so. Snape couldn’t look away from that mesmerising face, but rather than remove his finger he took Harry’s parted lips as an invitation and put his finger in Harry’s mouth. The warm wetness of Potter’s mouth brought him back to reality with a thud. Snape pulled his hand away from Potter as if he’d been burnt. Potter blinked up at him stupidly for a minute and then, without warning, fled. The lab door slammed shut behind him, but Snape barely noticed.

He couldn’t believe what he’d done; he’d stuck his finger in Potter’s mouth! A few months ago he would have quite happily killed a boy named Potter, who looked almost exactly like this one. Here he was sticking his finger in this Potter’s mouth, and he didn’t even know why. This Potter was attractive, but Snape hadn’t tried to kiss him, hadn’t done the normal teenage thing. Instead his traitorous body had decided to stick his finger in his mouth. He was mortified. He doubted Potter would study in the potion’s lab again, and really who could blame him? 

Snape had never felt more humiliated, something which, he reflected bitterly, he had a great deal of experience with already. He hadn’t moved yet, his breath had quickened without his seeming to notice it and his finger was wet. He inspected the finger tip carefully, this had been in Potter’s mouth, but there was still a smudge of red potion on it. Snape licked the potion off quietly. He couldn’t taste anything beyond the cherry flavour that he’d spent the last two hours trying to perfect. There was no trace of Potter in the taste.


	9. Chapter 9

The last day of August was damp and dreary, the grey sky making Spinner’s End feel particularly dank as Snape packed his belongings. He intended to move into the Slytherin dungeons tonight. The first potion that he planned to submit to the Guild was almost complete, just a few more tweaks and it would be perfect. Of course, a lot of the research had come from his older self; but as his old self had never completed the potion, Snape doubted that it would count as cheating. The older Snape had abruptly given up on this research just before he’d started teaching at Hogwarts. The potion was slightly morally dubious and he suspected that the older Snape had given up on it for that very reason. It was a counter to Veritaserum; not just an antidote that would render the original potion null, this one mimicked all the effects of Veritaserum except the truthfulness. The vacant stare, the uncharacteristically dry sentence structure, all would appear the same. It was always so obvious when someone had taken the antidote to truth serum, but, with this potion, the taker could be given multiple drops of Veritaserum and it would appear to have worked. It was really quite ingenious.

Fortunately, Slughorn had not yet set a password for the Slytherin Common Room, so Snape could walk in unimpeded. He scowled, the fat imbecile really knew nothing about security. He scowled more when he saw, posted on the noticeboard, the password for the next fortnight, _’Ex Unitae Vires,’_ unity is strength. 

His was the only bed in the seventh year dorm. It was a disconcerting reminder of his situation. The only other Slytherins who had ever really aided Snape had been those who had wanted to be Death Eaters, and even then, only when there was something in it for them. Snape had often felt like he was alone in the world, but now it was actually true. 

He sat heavily on the bed. It was going to be a long year. Caracalla scrambled out of his robe pocket and started to explore the bed. At least Snape didn’t have to worry about any of his year mates teasing his cat.

* * *

As pleasing as it was to lie in bed surrounded by the green tinged light from the lake, Snape couldn’t sleep. He would see Potter tomorrow at the Start Of Term Feast. Naturally, Potter hadn’t deigned to return to the Potion’s lab; all his talk of wanting to study had obviously just been a lie. Snape shied away from thinking about any other reasons for Potter’s absence.

Snape tossed around, trying to get comfortable. Caracalla had long since given up trying to share his bed whilst Snape was so restless. What he really needed was a spell to listen into Potter’s conversations with his friends. He needed to know if Potter had broken up with that ginger strumpet. Not that he cared what Potter did, but it was his duty, as Lily’s friend, to make sure that her son didn’t throw his life away on some chit just because he couldn’t admit that he was gay. 

His cock throbbed painfully as he thought about Potter and the hot wetness inside his mouth. He desperately needed to wank, but it was too humiliating to think about Potter.

* * *

Snape joined the throng of students as they walked into the Great Hall. It took awhile before anyone noticed him, but gradually the others began to give him a wider berth. The crowd fell silent aside from muted whispering. He ground his teeth and held his head high. He had just as much right to be here as anyone else. 

Sitting near the front of the Slytherin table, so that, as Prefect, he could instruct the new first years, he realised just how few Slytherins there were. They seemed to be sticking fairly close to him too. Everyone was sitting further up the table than had been normal in his day. The younger Slytherins smiled nervously at him, watching him carefully. He nodded slightly at a few of them and received a few wry smiles in return. Of course, his older self had done a lot during the War and, as Headmaster, he had protected the students from harm; but as everyone had thought him loyal to the Dark Lord, Snape had not expected to be greeted kindly by the other students. 

Potter sat down almost directly opposite, but the bastard avoided looking at him. The girl, Ginny, sat down a few seats away from him and flashed Potter an angry glare. Snape smiled. Perhaps Potter had actually plucked up the courage to rid himself of the harpy after all. 

None of Potter’s companions looked particularly happy. The ginger boy looked red faced and angry and Potter himself was pouting. His bottom lip stuck out childishly. Snape couldn’t help the wave of contentment that, no matter how embarrassing it was, he had touched that lip. He knew exactly what they felt like under his finger, what it felt like to push past those plush red lips. 

Snape shook his head as he rearranged his school robe to cover his semi; this was not the place for such thoughts. 

The Sorting Hat had begun it’s usual dreary song. It had been years since Snape had actually paid attention to the blasted thing, but this time, with so many young Slytherins looking up to him, he felt obliged to at least pretend to pay attention to it. Usually, he just brought a book. Snape struggled to keep his eyes off Potter. He desperately wanted to know why he looked so upset. 

“Professor! Professor Snape! I got into Slytherin, just like you!” a little first year slid into the seat next to him and practically plastered herself to his side. For a second, Potter looked at him but Snape had to turn away to acknowledge his new charge.

“Faith Burbage,” Snape said, recognising the half-blood, “I am not, nor shall I ever be, your professor. You may call me..” he hesitated, whichever name he gave her, all the other Slytherins would use too, “Severus.”

Burbage smiled so widely that Snape could see the chocolate smeared on her teeth. Behind him he could hear the Slytherins shocked mutterings. Snape did not bother to turn around. He was sure his older self would have disapproved of such familiarity, but there was something terribly endearing about being looked up to with such admiration. 

By the end of the Sorting there were ten new Slytherins. None of them, apart from Burbage, looked happy to be in their new house. The older Slytherins clapped politely each time they gained a new member; every other house cheered raucously each time they got a new first year.

Burbage wriggled restlessly next to him, seemingly too overawed to actually speak but tremendously excited. She finally calmed down when McGonagall stood up and the students fell silent.

“Welcome, everyone, to a new school year at Hogwarts. Each and every one of you is welcome here. Now is the time to set aside the events of the past year and let our normal lives resume. 

“Hogwarts, and the rest of the Wizarding World, has seen a lot of change over this past summer and I hope that you will all show the same strength and unity of purpose that has kept Hogwarts going through the darkest of times. Many students were forced to be involved in the conflict that shook our world, but here you are not soldiers, the war is over and now is the time for you to be students once again. As you may have realised we have far more students than usual, I expect you all to do your best to help any student whose education was interrupted by the war; your classes may be larger than before and there may be some mixing of years in some classes. No ones education will suffer because of this, and time will be made for every student. We must all work together to make sure that Hogwarts returns to her former glory. 

“We have several changes in staff, as Headmistress I can no longer serve as the Head of Gryffindor. Instead, Professor Septima Vector will be taking on that role. We also welcome Professor Dorian Hardcastle as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

“Despite the recent festivities this is not the time to forget ourselves. School rules still apply. The forest remains forbidden to all students. Practising magic in the corridors is prohibited and will be punished by loss of House points. With that out of the way, let the feast begin!”

The golden plates that lined the table filled with food on McGonagall’s command and every student began to talk at once with an explosion of sound. After a month of cooking for himself and living off beans on toast, Snape was more than happy to fill his plate with the food in front of him. 

“But, he was always on Dumbledore’s side, and when Harry Potter killed You-Know-Who, he told everyone that Severus was Dumbledore’s man,” he heard Burbage saying quietly to the muggle-born next to her. Snape swallowed the food in his mouth before he could spit it out. Was that what everyone was thinking about him? That he was Dumbledore’s man? Avenging Lily, that he could understand, that made perfect sense. But Dumbledore was a duplicitous old hypocrite who would happily side with potential murderers so long as they were in his favoured house. He would never have been Dumbledore’s man. 

“Sir, I mean, Severus. We were wondering,” a plump third year boy stammered, blushing furiously, “Wondering, if it was true. About you not remembering being Professor Snape.”

The older Slytherins fell silent, their eyes all on him.

“And, that you don’t remember about the War, or Dumbledore, or, or the Dark Lord,” a blonde fifth year asked cautiously. Snape glanced round at the sea of nervous faces, all of them turned to him. 

“That is correct,” Snape paused, unsure of himself. There were so many people looking at him, the attention was embarrassing, all of their faces were filled with respect and hope. “I do not remember any of you, although as a Prefect, I am available to you, if you have any concerns.”

A few Slytherins smiled, but most looked away, vaguely disappointed. Snape shrugged, there was nothing else he could have said; he had only said that much because it was his duty as a prefect and he refused to be like that coward Lupin and abdicate himself of responsibilities that were difficult. He was not liable for his older self’s actions or his responsibilities. Burbage was still grinning up at him with wide, adoring eyes. 

The feast was long and seemed to drag out even more than past Start of Term Feasts. Potter shot him the occasional glance but Snape couldn’t quite decipher the way that Potter was looking at him. 

“Sir! Severus, sir, we were wondering,” a thuggish looking fourth year called down the table at him. He looked like the type who never even opened their textbooks and just spent all their time talking about Quidditch. “I’ve been made captain, and I was wondering if you fancied trying out? I’m supposed to put a team together but I need some heavier players. You do play, don’t you?”

Of course, the brute would be talking about Quidditch.

“I do not.”

“But! But Professor Snape loved Quidditch!” a timid looking third year girl squeaked. Snape scowled at the older years.

“I,” he said, thinking to himself that this would be a phrase he would oft repeat over the coming year, “Am not Professor Snape.”

The Slytherin table fell quiet and Snape didn’t speak again until after the Feast had ended and he called out for the First years to follow him down to the dungeons. He didn’t like the way the older Slytherins looked at him, like they were expecting more of him. He wasn’t some war hero, he was just a Prefect. It was a relief when the day finally ended and he could crawl into bed where a loudly purring Caracalla nuzzled into his side.

* * *

Most of the First years had already gone to breakfast by the time Snape was up. The few that had not wanted to risk getting lost on the way to the Great Hall trailed after him as he made his way through the castle. He had almost reached the Slytherin table when he saw Slughorn. The man had aged considerably; his hair was whiter, his face more wrinkly but, most strikingly, he had doubled in size, his fat stomach ballooning out preposterously. 

“Aah, Severus, m’boy! There you are! I can’t tell you how strange it is to see you like this!” Slughorn beamed at him and put a proprietary hand on his shoulder. Snape fought the urge to throw him off. Sluggy had always been particularly unsubtle. He may have invited Snape to his little gatherings, but he had hardly welcomed him with open arms; a fine potioneer, but somehow just not good enough, not quite up to standard. Of course, now his elder self had proved his worth, Sluggy was all over him.

“Always knew you were destined for great things, don’t you know? Now, here’s your timetable and I do hope you’ll be able to join me and a few of the other students in a little get-together, hmm? Maybe in a few days time, when everyone has settled in a bit more?”

Snape shrugged and felt Slughorn’s hand fall from his shoulder. The last few Slug Club suppers he had gone to had been interminable affairs; he had sat in stony silence as he watched Potter and Lily flirt in front of an oblivious Slughorn. However, he needed to stay in the professor’s good graces, he needed unrestricted access to the Potion’s lab. 

“That sounds…” Snape paused to think of a word that wouldn’t be an outright lie, “Beneficial.”

“Exactly, m’boy, exactly!”

* * *

The Charms classroom looked exactly like it had in his time. Snape wanted to just hide at the back, but a cete of Hufflepuffs were already sitting there. He would be the only Slytherin in this class, and in every one of his other classes. The badgers muttered nervously as he sat down and no-one looked directly at him. Snape opened his book and began to read, he would not be made to feel awkward and certainly not by a group of _Hufflepuffs._

The class itself passed remarkably well. Professor Flitwick spent a good portion of the class impressing them all with the need to study hard for their N.E.W.T.s and then spent the rest of the lesson reviewing sixth year charms. Only after the class ended and the Hufflepuffs were streaming out did Flitwick acknowledge Snape as anything other than a regular student.

“Mr Snape!” the tiny professor squeaked as Snape made his way past the teacher’s desk. His older self had been this man’s colleague, but unlike McGonagall and Sluggy, Professor Flitwick seemed to understand that he was not his older self. The tiny teacher hopped down from the stack of books on which he was standing. 

“Mr Snape, I think that your Charms textbook is the old edition. I hope you’ll accept this more recent edition as a gift,” Flitwick said as he levitated the book he’d just been standing on up to Snape. He was tempted to refuse it. He didn’t need charity and nowadays he had enough money to buy his own books. Flitwick looked up at him with a nervous expression and Snape realised that Flitwick wasn’t really giving _him_ this book. It was a way of apologising to his older self for believing him capable of murder; a way for Flitwick to express his regret to a man that no longer existed. 

“Thank you, Professor,” Snape said evenly. Flitwick grinned happily, nodding to himself as Snape tucked the book into his bag. 

“In my younger days I had quite the reputation as a duelling champion. I seem to recall that you always enjoyed duelling, perhaps you’d care for a friendly bout sometime?”

Snape tightened his jaw. He had thought this teacher different. He had thought that the Head of Ravenclaw might be intelligent enough to differentiate between him and his older self. 

“Do you mean that my older self enjoyed duelling?” Snape asked sarcastically, but Flitwick’s smile faltered and he shook his head so quickly that his hat became askew. 

“No, no. I can’t count the number of times I would find you and that group of Gryffindors duelling in the Transfiguration Courtyard. I thought perhaps, now they’re gone, you might want to duel with me instead.”

Snape stared down at him in shock. How could Flitwick have mistaken the bullying Marauders for duellists? Or perhaps he hadn’t, but this was Flitwick’s way of being discreet. Either way, it was a wonderful chance to hone his duelling skills.

“I look forward to it, Professor.” 

Flitwick's smile widened and he levitated back on to his stack of books as the students for his next lesson began to come into the classroom.

* * *

His second class was Potions. Which meant he would have to deal with the Gryffindors. Staying behind to talk to Flitwick had already made him late, but luckily the Gryffindors were still waiting outside the Potions classroom. They all stopped talking as he hurried up to the classroom door.  
There were a few muttered whispers, but Snape didn’t even bother trying to hear them. This was the closest he’d been to Potter since the finger incident. 

The brat stared at the floor and refused to look at Snape. The little ginger haired tart was by his side again, but she was whispering angrily to him and Potter was ignoring her. Finally, Slughorn opened the classroom door and let them file past him. Snape made his way unerringly to his usual bench near the back of the room; he hated when other student tried to copy him and sitting at the back meant they couldn’t watch him, it also meant that he was as far away from Lily’s cold gaze as possible. 

“Snape?” Potter had snuck up on him again. Snape didn’t bother to answer, he was far too busy organising his workstation. 

“Can I sit next to you?” Potter asked calmly. Snape jerked his head up abruptly, he had expected anything Potter had to say to him would be rude, he had expected ridicule. This had to be a prank, just a slightly more elaborate one than Potter’s father had usually played. 

“Can I have my book back?” Snape retorted. Potter smiled, sat down and began rummaging in his book bag before finally taking out a slightly singed text book.

“There you go,” Potter said lightly, sliding the book along the desk towards Snape. 

“What are you playing at Potter? Why don’t you go and sit with your girlfriend?” Snape hissed, leaning closer to Potter and deliberately not looking at those plump red lips. 

“Welcome!” Slughorn boomed out jovially from the front of the class, “ Welcome Gryffindors, not forgetting, of course, our famous Slytherin! Now I know it’s been a while since some of you have brewed, but I’m expecting great things from this class! You’re all N.E.W.T. students and in this one class I have the only two students who ever won my special prize of a bottle of Felix Felicis!” Slughorn smiled at Potter in that greedy way in which he looked at all students who might be useful to him. Potter glanced embarrassedly at Snape, and he realised that Potter had been the other person to win Slughorn’s prize. Which meant Potter had used his notes to win. Potter was just as much of a liar and a cheat as his father! Snape clenched his hand into a fist; naturally Potter wanted to sit next to him, he no longer had Snape’s textbook, so he needed to be close in order to copy him. 

Potter shuffled his stool slightly closer to Snape and bent his head so that Slughorn wouldn’t see him whispering. 

“I broke up with Ginny,” Potter said softly, still staring down at the desk. Snape slowly unclenched his fist. Yes, he was angry that Potter had stolen his work, but this was a Potter who spilled all his secrets to Snape, who blithely told him about his personal life. The Potter who had had Snape’s finger in his mouth but not tried to curse him, nor even teased him about it. 

“Good,” Snape said, Potter glared up at him with a surprised look. “You weren’t suited.” Snape continued, trying to sound supportive. Potter’s response was lost as the scraping of chairs against the stone floor indicated that the Slughorn had finished talking and the class were getting ready to make their potion. Snape had completely missed what potion he was supposed to be making. For the first time in a Potion’s class he felt entirely lost. 

“I didn’t hear what Slughorn said. What are we brewing?” Potter asked, still much closer to Snape than he needed to be, but Snape didn’t feel the urge to move away. Glancing round, he saw that the other students were carrying scurvy grass, lovage, and sneezewort back from the supply cupboard. 

“Befuddlement Draught,” Snape said with more confidence than he felt; he was probably right, Slughorn wouldn’t be making them brew the Brain Swelling Potion, which was the only other potion that had those three ingredients. Potter smiled him. It wasn’t a particularly friendly smile, but it spoke of respect and admiration and Snape desperately wanted Potter to smile like that at him again. He knew he was intelligent, he knew he could be a great wizard, but he wasn’t used to other people realising that. The way Potter looked at him was the way he’d always dreamed of being looked at, like he was special. 

“Do you want me to get your ingredients for you?” Potter asked as he stood up. Snape sighed as that smile disappeared. He couldn’t let Potter’s face, or his lithe little body, distract him; Potter could do anything to those ingredients before he gave them to Snape, and he was not such a fool as to trust a Potter. 

“I am perfectly capable.”

* * *

Potter’s friends kept turning round to stare at them. At first, it was an annoying distraction but it was soon verging on infuriating. His potions book was covered in annotations, and he only remembered writing a few of them himself. The Befuddlement Draught was one of the few that had no notes on it at all. Snape pursed his lips and thought about how he could best adapt this recipe. 

“Psst, mate!” the ginger boy, who seemed to accompany Potter wherever he went, whispered loudly. The other Weasley nuisance. Snape let out a frustrated sigh and tried to block the annoying boy out; Slughorn was too busy inspecting the cauldron of sludge that the ginger strumpet had made to notice him. Snape bent further over his cauldron and tried to concentrate. 

“ _Harry!_ I’m sorry alright! Just - “ the ginger boy was cut off as the frizzy haired muggleborn elbowed in him in the ribs to warn him of Slughorn’s sudden approach. 

“Aah, Miss Granger, lovely, lovely,” Slughorn said happily looking into the muggleborn’s cauldron. Snape peered over to see the girl’s light blue potion and smirked to himself. Her Befuddlement Draught lacked the lustrous sheen that indicated a perfectly brewed draught, the sheen that his own potion had. 

“And Mr Weasley, of course,” Slughorn paused as he looked into the boy’s cauldron. “It’s so good to have wizarding heroes in my class.”

“Mr Potter, Harry, let’s see what you created today shall we? Hmm…” Slughorn gave a disappointed sigh and peered into Snape’s cauldron instead. 

“Severus! I say, is that passion flower? Well, that would counteract any anxiety the drinker might experience rather nicely, rather nicely indeed,” Slughorn chortled. Snape stared at him, whilst Slughorn usually acknowledged his work, he very rarely actually praised him for it. The old bastard was probably thinking of ways he could steal the recipe. Snape slammed his Potions book shut to hide all the new notes he’d made as Slughorn leaned over his desk. 

“Thank you, Professor.” Snape said, glancing at Potter. The boy didn’t look jealous of Slughorn’s praise at all. In fact he was just smiling, as if he were proud that Snape had been praised and not him. Snape frowned, sometimes Potter made no sense at all. 

“You’re very welcome, m’boy. Now the two of must come to my little dinner, I was thinking about having it this Saturday. What do you think of that then? And you can’t say you’re busy with Quidditch practice anymore, Harry!” Slughorn said, clapping Potter on the back. Potter squirmed away from him, but Slughorn didn’t seem to notice.

* * *

Snape sneaked a phial of Befuddlement Draught out of the class. It wasn’t technically against school rules and it had been his habit since his third year to take samples of all his potions. Sometimes he could sell them for a bit of extra cash, but mostly he liked the feeling of accomplishment he felt when he held the phial in his hand and knew that he had made something perfect. Even if he only had one friend and the other students taunted him, he had a skill that they could only dream of. 

In the rush of students tidying up their cauldrons it was easy to make sure Slughorn didn’t see him. However it also meant that he lost track of Potter. He disappeared into his gaggle of friends and was gone.

* * *

Snape rushed his lunch. It was usually his habit to sit alone and read while he sat at the Slytherin table, but his Housemates refused to leave him in peace. Burbage kept on trying to tell him about her first lessons and how one of her teachers was a ghost. Finally, he escaped outside to sit under the tree he usually sat under when he reviewed that day’s lessons. He’d been thinking about creating a spell to listen in on peoples conversations, and this was the perfect place to work. Snape pointed his wand at Potter and his two companions who were sitting under another tree further along the bank, but then turned away so it wouldn’t seem like he was staring at them. He twirled his wand thoughtfully and began to mutter possible incantations to himself. 

“Audirapt, audifur - ” there was a gentle rush of magic as the new spell worked and Snape could suddenly hear the conversation of the group.

“ - shouldn’t have said anything about you and Ginny. I get it. I didn’t know that muggles were all weird about wizards liking other wizards, I mean that’s so obviously stupid. I just don’t get what that has to do with Snape. And I don’t get why you suddenly want to be friends with him, or why you have to quit the Quidditch team! Even with Ginny as Seeker, we’ll never win the Cup without you!”

“Ronald Weasley, this is not about Quidditch!” said a female voice, that must be the muggleborn; Granger. 

“Alright, alright,” Weasley continued plaintively, “All I meant was that, yeah, of course it’s fine if you prefer wizards to witches, but you shouldn’t have strung Ginny along. And I don’t approve of how she’s behaving now, but you shouldn’t have mucked her about. And then there’s Snape! Is it...Do you fancy him, or something? Is that why you want to be friends with him? I just don’t get how you can forget what he was like. Do you remember all those times he gave you detention? Or the things he used to say? Yeah, so he was on our side all along, but the fact that he wasn’t actually evil doesn’t automatically mean he’s a good person. Do you remember what he said about Hermione’s teeth?”

“Don’t bring me into it! I’m perfectly able to fight my own battles, Ron,” Granger interjected. There was a long silence, and Snape resisted the urge to turn round and see what the three of them were doing. 

“If I’d known I was gay earlier, then I would never have got involved with Ginny. I never wanted to hurt her and, honestly, I love her like a sister. I wish I could make things right between us, but I just can’t like her in the way that she wants me to,” Potter said sadly. 

“And Snape?” Weasley asked, sounding angry. Potter sighed heavily. 

“I don’t get how you can still hate him, Ron. After everything we learned, doesn’t that change things for you?” Potter answered tiredly. 

“Well, I’m going to the library. We should make a start on that Transfiguration essay,” Granger said abruptly. Snape heard the rustle of cloth as the girl stood up. 

“What? We’ve got next period off!” Weasley scoffed. 

“It’s for study, not sitting around here. I’m going to the library,” the muggleborn gave a small cough, “Don’t you want to study too, Ron?”

“Er...Yeah, yeah you’re right. I want to study,” Weasley said unconvincingly. Potter laughed. 

“Well, I’m going to sit out here and enjoy the sunshine.”

“Ooh, I forgot. I bought you some books. They’re from a muggle book shop. I, er, I thought they might be helpful.” The muggleborn paused and there was the sound of paper crackling. 

“Hermione!” Weasley said in a strangled voice. “You can’t go around giving people books like that.”

“Yes, well, I thought Harry might appreciate a bit more support than you were giving him. Although that one is a little…explicit, but it’s best to know what you’re getting into. Anyway, the others are mostly fiction, stories about gay muggles and this one calls itself -”

“Hermione!” Potter choked out, “You bought these for me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want the _Prophet_ getting pictures of you buying anything like this in Diagon Alley, not until you’re ready. There are some others, but I didn’t want to carry them around.”

“I...Thanks,” Potter said emotionally. Snape ended the spell. He had no interest in any muggle books and the rest of the conversation had already given him far too much to think about. Potter was risking his friendship with someone who was obviously a close friend, just for Snape. 

It felt good, to know he was so highly valued, but at the same time Snape felt a frisson of fear. Wasn’t this situation similar to how things had been with Lily? Potter wanted to be his friend, and that was fine, Potter was pretty and popular; but Snape had always wanted Lily to not want other friends. He never understood why she had ever needed other friends, when she had him. And in his jealousy he had lost her friendship. Maybe, this time, things could be different. He would befriend Potter and he would not care about Potter’s hangers on. He would not begrudge Potter his other friends.

With that decided, Snape stood, and checking to make sure Potter was finally alone, he made his way over to the other boy.

Potter was sitting reading one of the muggle books that Granger had just given him. Snape peered at the front cover, pretending to not know what it was. There was a picture of two young men staring tenderly at one another. Snape refrained from sneering. 

“Potter,” Snape said, standing above the seated boy. How could he have been so stupid as to come over here, when he had no clue what he could possibly say to Potter? 

“Snape,” the boy squinted up at him, “Sit down. What do you think of lessons so far? I bet everythings pretty weird without all the other Slytherins.”

Snape sat and shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps if he were friends with his old Housemates then it would be strange to be without them, but he was quite used to being alone. 

“You broke up with Ginny,” Snape said haltingly. Potter found it so easy to tell him such things, and he desperately wanted to know more but he wasn’t sure how his enquiry would be received. 

“Yeah, well, not that we were properly going out, but I told her it was all over and I came out to Ron and Hermione. They’ve been great, I think Ron cares more about the fact that I’ve quit the Quidditch team than the fact I’m gay.”

“Ginny did not take the news well?” Snape said, holding his back stiffly. It seemed amazing that he was sitting here having a relaxed and, if not friendly then at the very least personal, chat with Potter.

“No...She says it’s just all the stress of the War, and that I just need to… I dunno, be more physical with her and then everything will be alright.” Potter sounded tired and Snape felt a flash of anger and fear. How dare this girl try and force Potter into a physical intimacy he did not want, and worse, perhaps Potter would fall for her charms. 

“I hope you do not believe her,” Snape said acidly. Potter shook his head decisively. 

“Nah, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About my life and how I never really had time to think about what I wanted, and now that Voldemort’s,” Snape shivered to hear the name so casually spoken,” dead I’m going to do whatever I want and not worry about other people’s expectations.”

Snape gave a small smile and nodded vaguely. There was no need to worry that Potter was difficult to talk to, the boy spouted his every thought as soon as Snape came near him. It was remarkably pleasant, to be so obviously trusted. Snape relaxed a little more and let his attention dwell on the way the sunlight hit Potter’s dark hair.

“And after _dying_ it seems a little silly to come back and play on the House Quidditch team, not that Ron can understand that.”

“Mr Weasley doesn’t seem particularly capable of deep thought,” Snape muttered, not sure how Potter would react to criticism of his friends but Potter just shrugged and stared off at the lake.

“When did you realise you were gay? Did my mum know? Do you think she would have cared about me being gay?” Potter suddenly burst out.

“Your mother...Lily was aware of my preferences. Many muggleborns are uncomfortable with the acceptance of homosexuality in the Wizarding world and Lily’s family was no different,” Snape paused as Potter looked to be on the verge of tears. “I knew I preferred men from a very early age, before I even became friends with Lily, and she accepted that completely; although her parents, your grandparents, were never informed. It was hardly their business after all.” It felt wrong, almost shameful, to be giving away such personal information; but Potter had already told him so much about himself, he was sure to notice if the gesture was not reciprocated. 

“So, you don’t think my mum would care, but my grandparents might have?” 

“Just so,” Snape nodded watching Potter’s green eyes sparkle beautifully with unshed tears. 

“What about my dad?” Potter asked quietly, Snape curled his lip angrily. He had no wish to discuss James Potter, nobody should care about the opinions of that bastard.

“He was a pureblood, so I doubt he would have cared. Your father was a bully,” Snape licked his lip trying to calm down and phrase this well, “And he saw many things in me worthy of scorn, but being gay was never one of them.” Potter seemed to perk up at that but Snape felt like a complete idiot. He could have lied and told Potter that his father had hated homosexuals, he could have made the son loathe the father in a brilliant act of vengeance. But he hadn’t, he’d told the truth instead. Potter smiled at him, his face so open and honest that Snape could not regret his words any longer. He smiled back at Potter and risked a glance at those perfect lips.


	10. Chapter 10

Granger nodded to him before taking her seat right in front of the teacher’s desk; the little swot. He nodded back but Granger had already turned her back on him. A slight, blonde girl with earrings in the shape vegetables slid into the seat next to him and gave him a small, wide eyed smile. Snape raised an eyebrow at her and opened his Ancient Runes book; the girl was a Ravenclaw but looked painfully naive. He hoped she wasn’t another sycophant who mistook him for his older self. 

“Hello, Severus. I’m Luna. You should be careful, your book looks like a Umgubular Slashkilter made its nest in the binding.”

Snape started; was this girl threatening him? She was just gazing at him calmly, and didn’t seem to be quelling under his incredulous stare. His book was old, it had been his mother’s before him. Was this girl making a joke of his poverty?

“We can share if you like. I spray all my books with Heffalump horn to keep the Slashkilters away,” Luna continued, seemingly unaware of how ridiculous she sounded. 

“That is unnecessary,” Snape muttered, turning his chair slightly away from her. 

Snape didn’t know the Ancient Runes teacher but the woman’s teaching style was certainly different to all the other professors. Instead of any warnings about NEWTs and the importance of studying hard, she just gave them a codex to translate. It was clearly some sort of test, even though the students chatted to each other about their work. He hadn’t revised any of his runes, he’d assumed this class was going to be an introductory one. Granger started scribbling away as soon as Babbling handed her a copy of the codex, she barely had to use her dictionary at all. To his astonishment, Luna seemed even more proficient.

“Do you want to work together? It’s nice when we work in pairs, it almost feels like we’re friends,” Luna said in her bored voice, sounding as if she were too distracted by Slashkilters to concentrate on the conversation. The impression that she was stupid was obviously misleading though, her work was nothing short of genius. 

“Very well. Which translation did you use for the second rune on the third line?”

* * *

Despite all his hard work preparing for classes before term started, Snape found himself struggling. He had always been too quiet in lessons to actually be recognised as top of the class, he had never understood the urge to boastfully volunteer answers to teachers questions; however, he was almost always the first to master a new spell or wand movement. Now, that was no longer the case and Snape hated it. 

Granger was insufferable. She must spend her every waking hour outside of classes in the library, and possessed a memory that allowed her to reel off whole paragraphs from their textbooks. However, whilst she was bright and willing to study, she lacked an innate feel for the magic. He smirked at his transfigured ice crystal, glancing up to see that she was glaring at him balefully while the flame at the top her candle burnt brightly and resolutely untransfigured. She caught his eye and then immediately turned in her seat to furiously whisper something in Potter’s ear. 

Potter turned round and looked him full in the face before giving him a small, mischievous grin. If James Potter had smiled at him like that then Snape would have known he was about to be attacked. When this Potter smiled like that Snape was not at all sure what it meant, but it made something in his stomach flutter and he wished he had ten more flames he could transfigure into ice, just for Potter.

* * *

“Snape!” an angry voice called out as he stumbled into the Slytherin Common Room carrying a pile of library books. None of the Slytherins had dared to raise their voice to him so far and he didn’t intend to let them start now. He spelled the books to float to his room and surveyed the group of Slytherins seated around the fireplace. None of them were wearing school uniform and they all looked older than any Slytherins he’d seen so far. These must be his year mates, the ones who were supposed to be under house arrest. 

“Shouldn’t you be tucked up safely at home?” Snape spat, glaring at the brats. Some of them looked vaguely familiar and all of them were wearing clothes cut so exquisitely that they must have cost more than Snape’s father had earned in a year. 

“How dare you!” a plump girl with an ugly face yelled. “We trusted you! And you, you…” the girl spluttered angrily, her face turning a blotchy red. She pulled out her wand and aimed it at him, the wand tip quivered as the girl shook with anger.

“Pansy!” Malfoy said, his voice full of the usual Malfoy disdain, “Don’t be so stupid. Do you actually want to get sent to Azkaban?”

“Ugh, I don’t have time for this. I’m not risking Azkaban for some greasy little traitor!” a large boy said, standing and heading past Snape to exit the Common Room. Slowly the other Slytherins trailed after the boy. Most of them refused to look at Snape, whilst others cast hate filled glares at him, one stocky boy hit Snape’s shoulder as he past. Eventually only Malfoy remained, sprawled awkwardly over one of the Common Room’s sofas. 

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

“Terms of our sentence. We may be under house arrest but we’re still allowed to study for our NEWTs, and every so often, if we’re very well behaved, we can come back to Hogwarts and talk to our teachers.”

“I won’t detain you any longer then,” Snape said stiffly. This boy looked so much like his father and Snape wanted nothing whatsoever to do with him. He turned to walk away but Malfoy spouted up again.

“I was wondering. You were always such a good teacher, much better than Sluggy -”

“I’m very busy, Malfoy.”

Malfoy stood up quickly, his face suddenly twisting angrily. For a second Snape was convinced that Malfoy was about to attack him, but the moment past. Malfoy’s face returned to its usual smug mask. 

“See you around, Professor,” Malfoy called out as he sauntered out of the Common Room. 

“I sincerely hope not,” Snape muttered to himself.

“Severus!” Burbage called out as she came down from the girls dormitories. In her arms was a very unhappy looking Caracalla. “Did you see the old Slytherins? Professor Slughorn said they were coming and we were all really worried, but I found Caracalla for you, even though they don’t know he’s yours, but I thought, it might be better to keep an eye on him,” the little girl wittered on. Snape resisted the urge to tell her to be silent. His older self had known that this girl’s mother had died. How had he known? Had he witnessed it? Had any of the Slytherins who were in Hogwarts this afternoon?

Snape silently took Caracalla from Burbage and silently wondered if the girl was thinking the same thing. 

“Thank you, Burbage,” Snape gave her a small smile and she beamed back at him.

* * *

Caracalla bounded ahead of him as Snape hurried towards his room. Sluggy had made good on his threat of a Slug Club gathering. Potter would definitely be there, after all the old Slug would hardly waste his time and efforts on a gathering that didn’t include the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Snape would have to prepare first, he wanted to wash his hair before he saw Potter. He wanted to look as different from his older self as possible.

* * *

Snape wished it was one of Sluggy’s sit down dinners. If it had been then he could have stared at Potter with impunity. Instead it was a buffet, with everyone wandering round with tiny plates in their hands. Potter and his hangers on were already there. The Weasley slut was still hanging off Potter. Perhaps Potter had lied to him that day in Potions. Perhaps Potter knew that Snape found him attractive and had lied about breaking up with the girl in order to get close enough to steal his ideas for Potions. 

Snape sipped at his drink and watched out of the corner of his eye as Weasley’s dirty little hand slid along Potter’s back. The boy blushed and twitched awkwardly, but he didn’t push the girl away, not like he should have done. Snape’s lips tightened in anger. He had to know if they’d really broken up or it had all just been a lie or some elaborate prank of Potter’s. 

He cradled his wand in his pocket and whispered his new Eavesdropping Charm. Without taking his wand out he couldn’t aim properly and he suddenly started hearing the conversation of Granger and Weasley, who were standing just behind Potter. 

“- but you said we’d talk to Ginny about how she’s treating Harry tonight.”

“No, I can’t stay!” Granger said in a panicked voice, “I saw Snape’s Transfiguration homework on his desk in class today! It was three times more than I’d written and I did so much research! I don’t know what else I can write about! I have to get back to the library!”

“Hermione,” the Weasley boy said, trying to calm her down, “That’s not due till Monday. Just relax. We’ll go to the library tomorrow, we’ll spend all day in there. You never let Snape get to you this much when he was a professor, why do you care now?”

“It’s not about _Snape,_ ” Granger said scornfully, “I just don’t understand how he has time to study this much! Do you think he has a time turner?”

“You’re worse than Harry! Who cares what Snape does? So what if his homework is longer than yours -”

Snape ended the spell with a flick of his wand. It was good to know that Granger saw him as competition, he would hate to not be recognised. 

“Snape! You came!” Harry called out, coming towards him with a grin on his face. The ginger tart trailed after him, scowling at Snape. He smiled at both of them. Potter returned his smile with a bigger grin and the girl’s scowl turned murderous. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Weasley spat out. Snape shrugged. 

“Slughorn was rather insistent that I attend. I suppose he wanted heroes of the Wizarding War, not just school girls who spent the War safely under my older self’s protection. And why are you here?” 

“Ginny’s very good with the Bat Bogey Hex,” Potter piped up. Snape gave her a condescending glance and saw that her face had turned a worrying shade of red that clashed horribly with her hair. 

“You’re not a hero,” the girl hissed, “If Voldemort were here today you’d be on you knees in front of him, begging him to let you become a Death Eater again.”

It wasn’t true. He bitterly regretted that he'd ever let his fascination with the Death Eaters come between Lily and him. If he'd thought that joining them would lead to Lily's death then he would never have even considered it. Snape leaned towards her, ready to hiss a mouthful of vitriol at her but a fat hand clamped on to his shoulder and stopped him. 

“Ah, there you are, m’boy! And I see you’ve found Harry! Wonderful, wonderful! Now, Miss Weasley would you be so kind as to fetch me a glass of that delicious sherry?”

The red haired nodded angrily and stalked away. How unusually perspicacious of Sluggy. Snape almost felt well-disposed towards him, but then Sluggy continued to talk. 

“It’s good to see you being so friendly with our famous Slytherin, but then Harry, you must admit you would make a very good Slytherin yourself,” Snape almost laughed out loud at the prospect of James Potter’s son in the house of the snake. It was a ridiculous idea, no-one with such an open face would survive two minutes in Slytherin. 

“I don’t know about that, Professor,” Harry said, his voice clear and empty of the scorn or disgust that Snape would have expected. 

“Oh really, m’boy, a Parselmouth in Gryffindor. It seems most unfair, don’t you think, Severus?”

Snape was shocked. Far too shocked to answer. He glanced at Potter, seeing if he would deny it. James Potter would have killed anyone who called him a Parselmouth. Potter nodded stiffly, as if it was common knowledge that he could talk to snakes, but his face had turned an odd colour.

“I...Would you excuse us, Professor? I just remembered I promised I’d, er, show Snape something.”

“Of course, Harry, of course. I’m always happy to encourage inter-house co-operation.”

Without another word, Potter grabbed his elbow and started dragging him to the back of the room. Finally, when they were ensconced in a small alcove and hidden behind a heavy curtain, Potter released him. 

“What is the meaning -” Snape began, but stopped himself. All the blood had drained from Potter’s face and he looked deathly white. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I was a Parselmouth, but Dumbledore said I got it from Voldemort. What if I’m not a Parselmouth anymore? People will be able to work out that I was a Ho -” Snape slapped his hand over Potter’s mouth to silence him. His large hand covered almost all of the lower half of Potter’s face. Potter’s lips rubbed against his palm, hot and slightly damp.

“Don’t say that word,” Snape hissed, his mouth was closer to Potter’s ear than necessary and he could smell the tang of Hogwarts shampoo in the boy’s hair. “People will be able to work it out if you persist on mentioning it. Now, have you tried to talk to a snake since the Battle?” Potter shook his head. 

“There’s a snake on my cloak pin. Can you try to talk to that?” Potter nodded vigorously and Snape withdrew his hand reluctantly. It felt almost painfully cold without Potter’s hot mouth to warm him. 

Potter stared at his chest and then began to hiss. It was the most sensual thing he’d ever heard, sounds slithered over Potter’s agile little tongue. Snape felt himself hardening and thanked Merlin for wizards robes. 

“Am I talking to it?” Potter asked him. Snape frowned.

“You can’t tell?”

Potter shook his head and began to talk in the language of snakes again. The soft red lips were letting out small spluttering noises and, fucking Merlin, he was going to come in his pants if Potter didn’t shut up. 

“Potter! That’s enough. You’re a Parselmouth,” Snape said, trying to sound calm, trying to keep his voice steady when all he wanted to do was reach between his legs and touch himself. He had to get away from Potter. 

“Gods! I was so worried. Thanks, Snape. I don’t know what I would have done without you! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that ages ago!” Potter reeled off, his green eyes staring up at him, like he’d done something amazing. 

Snape paused. He had to get Potter to leave, but he didn’t want to say anything that would ever remove that look from Potter’s face. 

“We’ll be missed if we stay here. You should go, Potter, I’ll wait here for a minute so no-one suspects anything.” Potter nodded as if Snape’s words made any sense. What did it matter it someone caught them standing together behind a curtain?

“Alright, I’ll, er, just go then,” Potter said, blushing. Before Snape could wonder why Potter was turning red, the boy turned and left. Snape leaned heavily against the wall, taking deep breaths and trying to will his erection away. 

Finally calm, Snape pulled the curtain aside and went in search of Potter. He was with his little sidekicks, Granger and the boy Weasley. Snape clenched his fist. Potter spent all his time with those idiots. Slowly he relaxed his hand. This was what he had realised by the lake the other day, this was where he had gone wrong with Lily. He must not be jealous of these fools and he must never let Potter know how much he hated his friends for stealing him from him. Snape turned and stalked back to the dungeons.


	11. Chapter 11

The amount of work he had to complete this year was daunting, but he knew it would be easier once he had finished his first potion for the Guild. He was so close to finishing his counter to Veritaserum and he couldn’t relax until it was done. It was taking much longer than he had expected. 

“Severus?” a girl’s voice whispered nervously. Snape glanced up from the third batch of his potion that he’d made that afternoon; making the potion again and again was the only way to calibrate the times that ingredients had to be added. Burbage stood in the doorway, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Can I come in?”

Snape nodded abruptly and turned back to his cauldron, he had to keep track of this. 

“It’s just, it’s the first Quidditch game, and everyone was really excited, but I couldn’t see you anywhere. Aren’t you going to come down?”

The potion turned that delicate shade of blue that he’d been aiming for and Snape jotted down how long it had taken with this batch. 

“No. I have more important things to do than stand around in the cold watching ego - why aren’t you at the match?”

“Well, if you don’t like Quidditch, then it can’t be very good, can’t it? I could help you instead, I could chop something for you,” Burbage said. Snape looked at her incredulously. Never, in all his life had anyone valued his opinion as much as this little girl did. Perhaps Lily had, when he had first told her stories about the Wizarding World, before they had come to Hogwarts. Looking into her wide trusting eyes, it was as impossible to say anything disparaging to Burbage as it had been to the young Lily. 

“Quidditch is fine. I’m just very busy. Go and join your year mates. You’ll enjoy the game more once they’ve explained all the rules to you,” Snape told her. Burbage beamed at him as if he’d said something terribly intelligent. 

“Are you sure? I could stay and help and then you’d be finished faster and we could watch the end of the game together,” Burbage asked, clearly worried that he was going to miss out on something because he was stuck down here. 

“Go!” Snape yelled, his potion suddenly beginning to bubble angrily. He heard the lab door slam shut as Burbage ran away and was glad. Just because he hated Quidditch didn’t mean that the young half-blood should as well.

* * *

Potter’s potion was about to boil over, even as the boy fussed over it and added more lovage root. They had been sitting next to each in Potions class for weeks now, but Potter never asked for his help, never even tried to sneak peeks at what Snape was doing to his potion. The seventh year class had become so intense that there was barely any time during the lesson for them to do more than exchange greetings before they had to start working. 

Snape wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. It would be nice to have Potter’s attention focused more on him, but what he could possibly say to the boy? He had been lucky in the past that conversation had flowed between them, next time he might not be so lucky. It was far better to sit in silence than risk humiliating himself by saying something stupid to Potter and Sluggy’s jam-packed lessons were just the excuse he needed. 

“Just put the fire out, Potter!” Snape hissed as Potter’s cauldron let out an ominous gurgle. 

“What? No! That will definitely ruin it, I can still salvage it!” Potter said with surprise. Snape gave a loud sigh. 

“The only thing that will save that concoction is if you take it off the heat. Your potion’s acceptable, it’s just overheating.” 

Potter gave him an agonised look of indecision and then put out the fire under his cauldron. Instantly the bubbles stopped and the potion began to look better. 

“Wow, thanks, Snape,” Potter said, grinning at him. Snape looked away and hated the way his stomach felt strange and his palms oddly sweaty. “I wanted to ask you something, actually. It’s the Halloween Feast this weekend, and, erm, a Hogsmeade trip during the day. So, I was wondering, if you were thinking of going into Hogsmeade, then if you wanted to go together?”

Snape felt his heart race, his pulse pounding in his ears. Was Potter asking him out on a date? It wasn’t possible. It had to be a trap, a prank of some sort. 

“Why would I want to go to Hogsmeade with you?” Snape snarled. Potter flushed, but stood his ground. 

“Yeah, you’re right it was a stupid idea anyway,” Potter said angrily, turning quickly and going to stand at Granger’s desk, his stiffened back to Snape. It served him right for trying to trick Snape like that. He wasn’t going to fall for Potter’s little game.

There was a chance, a very small chance, that Potter had been sincere and that Snape had just rejected him. He quashed the thought. That was ridiculous.

* * *

Snape walked along the Slytherin table, noticing the uneasy tension of the Slytherin table. A few Slytherins glanced up at him and nudged their neighbours, who looked up at him too. A low muttering spread along the table and filled Snape with apprehension. 

“Severus!” Burbage yelled, standing up from her place near the front of the table, “I saved you a place!” The girl waved energetically, beckoning him. Usually Snape preferred to sit as far down the table as possible during Feasts. While the food was good, these things were far too noisy and it wasn’t like he had friends to chat to as he ate. 

“Everyone was really worried about you! No one had seen you all day, and Tarquin said that you hadn’t been in Hogsmeade. Are you alright?” Burbage asked as he sat down beside her, worry clouding her face. 

“I’m well. I was in the Potions lab. I have finished my first Guild potion,” Snape couldn’t help the grin of happiness and relief that spread over his face. He had so much work to get through this year and, finally, he felt like he was making some progress. He’d invented potions before, but this one, this one was the most complicated one yet. It might be classified as a little Dark, but that was nothing to be ashamed of. Snape looked around proudly and saw that everyone was looking at him. Some were giving him small grins but most just looked relieved. Snape raised an eyebrow questioningly and everyone began to talk at once. 

“We thought one of those Gryffindors had done something to you...”

“I told them you would be in the lab…”

“The other Houses don’t like us…”

They had been concerned for him. The whole House had noticed his absence and been concerned for him! It was amazing. Looking around he happened to catch Luna Lovegood’s eye. She gave him one of her distant smiles and her sentiment from their first Ancient Runes class echoed through his head. This did feel almost like having friends, and Snape found he rather liked it.

* * *

He sent off his potion and the recipe to the Potions Guild, but he wasn’t sure what he would invent for his second potion. His older self’s logs had quite a few half invented potions, but he wanted this one to be entirely his own idea. 

Classes were easier now that he had more time to prepare for them. The satisfaction he saw every time he witnessed Granger hunched over a table in the library, surrounded by stacks of books and long past curfew was enough to make sure that he always stayed later in the library than she did. He even started answering questions in class, just so he could see the frustration on her face. Sometimes he asked the teachers questions; dichotomies he’d found between different texts, paradoxes that made the teachers give long, complex answers and gush with enthusiasm over the intelligence of his question. 

And the best thing was that Granger didn’t want to hate him. She was too fair-minded. She knew that it was the competition that infuriated her, not Snape himself. But sometimes, when he answered a question better than she did, or received more praise from a teacher, he saw the way she looked at him. Struggling to not loath him, torn by her own jealousy and Snape knew she deserved it. She had Potter’s attention and he did not. 

The only time that Potter had come near him in the past two weeks had been their Potions class. The lessons were still too busy to chat in, but there was a quality to Potter’s silence that made Snape think that Potter was refusing to talk to him. Potter’s school robes covered him completely so that Snape could only see the bottom of his muggle jeans poking out from under the hem. Snape caught himself staring distractedly at Potter’s back; this silence would be a lot more bearable if Potter wasn’t in school uniform and he could see Potter’s tight arse swathed in denim.

* * *

“Potter?” Snape said softly as everyone packed up their schoolbags at the end of class. Potter glanced up at him and stopped packing his bag but refused to make eye contact. 

“Snape,” Potter answered politely and completely lacking his usual intense enthusiasm. 

“I...I found myself very busy over Halloween. The Potions Guild require that I invent three new potions this year and I completed the first over Halloween. I was under a great deal of strain.”

Potter finally looked up at him, his large green eyes solemn and Snape found himself saying the words that were always so difficult for him. 

“I’m sorry, that we couldn’t go to Hogsmeade. The Guild wrote back to me this morning, they’ve accepted my first creation,” Snape pressed on. Potter bit his lip and gave a tentative smile. Snape had been studying so hard he’d forgotten about Potter’s lips, but now they were standing closer than they had in weeks and Snape remembered. A small, pink tongue darted out and licked at them. He’d touched that tongue.

“So...You do want to go to Hogsmeade together?” Potter asked, smirking. 

“Yes,” Snape said, feeling uncomfortable and exposed,”There is another Hogsmeade weekend just before Christmas, if that would be suitable?”

“Very suitable!” Potter enthused, his smile growing so that his porcelain skin wrinkled beautifully.

* * *

Even though most of the school were too young to vote, election fever seemed to have hit Hogwarts. For the most part Snape ignored it. The heated debates at mealtimes were merely a distraction to him. Granger routinely read over her food, and Snape didn’t have the time to waste not studying. He had no interest in debating the merits of Shacklebolt’s time as Interim Minister and whether that would translate into him making a good permanent Minister; or if Witherknot’s War record should be held against him; if voting for Smith was only a sympathy vote because the muggleborn’s entire family had been killed by Death Eaters. 

“And, really, his platform isn’t Light or Dark. He’s just saying that people should be held responsible for their actions.”

“Yeah, that’s a fine sentiment for someone who didn’t actually take part in the War!”

Snape sighed and tried to return to his book but small fingers prodded at his ribs. 

“Severus? Severus! You are coming to the match after breakfast, right? Right? It’s Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw and you aren’t making one of your Masters potions, are you?” Burbage asked excitedly. The other little First Years nodded along with her, their eagerness for his company was mystifying. 

“I’ll be watching the match,” Snape grumbled. Granger would probably be going too, so it wasn’t like he would be losing too much time. “I’ll see you down there.”

As he stood up from the table he happened to glance at the Gryffindor table and see Potter. The boy smiled at him and blushed. Snape smiled back and revelled in a sense of power; he had that effect of Potter. Just one glance and Potter was bright red. 

The little Weasley slut was sitting near Potter and had witnessed their exchange. She jumped up from her seat angrily and stomped off. Snape pretended not to see. After all, she wasn’t important.

* * *

“Such a good showing for Gryffindor, wouldn’t you agree, Mr Snape?” Professor McGonagall said slyly. Really, he would have preferred to sit with the other Slytherins but McGonagall had grabbed him as he made his way down to the pitch and insisted that he stay beside her. 

“Very,” Snape said bitterly, causing McGonagall to turn to him with a gloating smile. Someone who took such pleasure in another person’s misery should not be Head of Gryffindor. He supposed that McGonagall used to watch matches with his older self, but he honestly didn’t have any interest in the game. No, his eyes were firmly fixed on Potter. 

The boy was watching the game avidly. The ginger strumpet was Seeker and he was following her every move. Snape wanted to scream at him. If he wanted to pretend to be straight, if he wanted the nasty little bitch, why had he agreed to go on a date with Snape. Or perhaps it wasn’t a date after all, just two people walking into Hogsmeade together. 

To make it even worse, Snape could see Granger sitting beside Potter. She was ignoring the game and primly reading the Ancient Runes book that he’d intended to read this morning instead of coming to this damned match. 

“Miss Weasley doesn’t usually play Seeker, but she certainly seems fast enough on a broom,” McGonagall commented. Snape scowled and flicked his hair angrily.

* * *

Classes seemed easier, now that the strained silence between him and Potter was finished. It was scary how quickly time passed, and yet he still did not know what to make for his second Guild potion. 

Snape left the Great Hall swiftly, he was supposed to be meeting Potter back here in an hour for their trip to Hogsmeade. Coming down the stairs he spied Granger and the Weasley boy and, having no wish to talk to them, especially on this of all mornings, he ducked into an alcove that had been completely hidden by an election campaign poster for Norman Smith. 

As they slowly descended the stairs, he strained to hear their conversation. 

“This is the first time in ages that I’ve been able to relax. I’m not going to spend the morning helping you with homework that you should have finished last week.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll only be five minutes and then we can, hey, how come you’re taking today off anyway?”

Granger let out a frustrated sigh as they walked past Snape’s hiding place.

“Snape’s going on that date with Harry, which means he is taking the day off, which means I am.”

“Hermione! You’re insane! You don’t need Snape’s permission to relax. Merlin, it’s bad enough that Harry -”

“Ronald! Remember what we said about letting Harry experiment. If we say negative things about Snape then it’ll just make him more attractive. It’s psychology.”

“Sigh Cophanny! I don’t understand why he doesn’t remember what Snape’s really like.”

“Because he’s not his older self! But Harry doesn’t even know this Snape, he’s f -” Granger’s last words were lost as the two of them entered the Great Hall.

Of course, he’d thought that it was a date, but to have it confirmed so openly! And Potter was admitting it freely to his friends. This couldn’t be a prank! Which meant they really were going on a date. Snape shuddered, suddenly deathly afraid. What would they talk about for hours? What if Potter got bored? What should he wear? He had an hour to get ready and he had to wash the last traces of potion fumes from his hair! He’d washed his hair last night, but he should probably do it again.


	12. Chapter 12

Potter was already waiting for him in the Entrance Hall as Snape made his way up the stairs from the dungeons. His back was to Snape, but he recognised the messy hair that looked like Potter had tried, unsuccessfully, to tame it this morning. 

Snape snuck up to him quietly. How did one start a date? Should he just say hello, as if this were a chance meeting in the corridor?

Potter was staring at the picture of Shacklebolt on his campaign poster, as the Interim Minister smiled benignly back at him. 

“I suppose you’re a supporter of Shacklebolt’s?” Snape asked. The boy started and practically jumped around to face Snape. 

Marvellous, his first attempt at conversation and he’d had to start to talking about politics! He didn’t care about who won the election. What could he possibly say if Potter asked for his opinion?

“Oh yeah, I guess. I mean, he’s in the Order and he’s a really good bloke. But I don’t want to get involved, I mean, I’m just a schoolboy, I shouldn’t be telling people who to vote for. Smith asked me to announce that I was backing him, but…” Potter shrugged and looked embarrassed. 

“I’ve found myself far too busy to follow the campaign anyway. Are you ready to go?”

Potter nodded and they set out. It was cold, but no snow had fallen yet. Even though they were both wearing thick robes and scarves neither of them were so bundled up that conversation would have been prohibited. If only Snape could think of something to say.

Potter stumbled slightly so that their shoulders bumped together. Snape put out an arm instinctively to catch him, but Potter was already moving away. A small hand briefly rested on his forearm and then slid down and settled on his hand. The hand rested in his and didn’t move away. Snape stared down in astonishment. Potter was holding his hand. Snape stared incredulously. His own long fingers, dry, chapped and slightly stained from all the Fragamwort he’d been cutting recently, looked slightly obscene as they cradled around Potter’s plump and rather cherubic hand.

The boy let out a nervous little sound and started to pull away, but Snape held on. Potter had decided it was alright to hold hands and he was damned if he’d let the boy pull away now. 

Hogsmeade itself was very similar to how he remembered it. Dogweed, the Herbology shop, had become Dogweed and Deathcap. He pointed out the few changes to Potter, but he knew it was meaningless to the boy and he was terrified of boring Potter. Terrified that Potter would remove his hand from Snape’s grasp. 

Although his excitement when he saw a cauldron shop had opened up in Hogsmeade could not be contained. He dragged a laughing Potter into Potage’s Cauldron Shop. 

“You really do love this stuff, don’t you?” Potter said as he released Snape’s hand to pick up a tiny silver cauldron. Snape shrugged awkwardly. It wasn’t like he was as much of a swot as Granger and Potter seemed to have no problem being friends with her. Of course, he didn’t want to be _friends_ with Potter. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s nice. I’d love to have a subject that I was so interested in.”

“You don’t have a favourite subject?”

“Well, I always enjoyed Defense Against the Dark Arts, but that was more because I was good at it. It’s easy to like something when it comes naturally.”

Snape hummed and peered into a semi-visible, quartz cauldron. Showy and useless. If Potter didn’t have a favourite subject, then how had he chosen which NEWTs to take? He silently ran through which subjects Potter was studying. 

“You want to be an Auror,” Snape realised, trying to not make it sound like an accusation. James Potter had wanted to be an Auror; it was a job that would have suited him. Although why anyone sane would want to become one of those narrow-minded lackeys, corrupted by the power they wielded, was beyond Snape.

“Well, I did. I always thought I should, you know, cos of Voldemort. And then someone said that I wouldn’t be able to get the NEWTs to become an Auror and it sort of became this challenge. Nowadays, well, there are still Death Eaters to track down. Crabbe and Lestrange have been sighted a few times, and I think I should be out there, helping, fighting. But not because I really want to, it just feels like it’s my responsibility. I don’t know what I’d do instead, it’s not like I ever really sat down and thought about what I wanted to do. Actually, I didn’t really expect to live this long.”

Snape nodded vaguely. Sometimes he forgot about Potter’s bluntness and the way that he could say the most shocking things. They were in the middle of a cauldron shop and Potter was calmly discussing his own mortality. 

“I’m not sure what I shall do after I leave Hogwarts either,” Snape said, changing the subject to one he felt more comfortable with. “I haven’t thought much beyond gaining my Masters.”

“You should open your own apothecary!” Potter said with a smile, “Unless you want to be a teacher again!”

Snape shuddered and Potter burst out laughing. The boy leaned over and bumped his shoulder against Snape’s upper arm. It looked like such an easy gesture for Potter to make, he was so relaxed, so innocent. It was the sort of friendly gesture that people simply didn’t make with him and Snape found himself craving more. 

“I’m sure I was an excellent teacher, Potter,” Snape said haughtily, but Potter just laughed harder. 

They left the shop, huddled together. Close, but not quite touching. Snape’s hand felt empty without Potter’s to hold onto. They ambled along, stopping in front of Sprintwitches window so that Potter could gaze at some new broomstick. Snape had never had the money to be interested in such things as the latest broomstick before and even now he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Slowly, carefully, he reached down and grasped Potter’s hand. The boy, who had seemed so absorbed in the shop window, turned to him in surprise. Snape held on. He hadn’t done anything that Potter hadn’t already done and he wouldn't be made to feel embarrassed about it. 

Potter grinned slightly, squeezed his hand and turned back to the window.

“You feel really warm,” Potter said softly. 

Snape made an indistinct noise. Was that a compliment? He wasn’t sure. He opened his mouth but was cut off by the approach of Luna Lovegood. 

“Hello, Severus. Hello, Harry,” Luna wore her usual preoccupied expression and eclectic assortment of clothes and jewellery. Her eyes trailed down to their joined hands and her smile grew. “Severus, I knew that Slashkilter nest was a sign!”

Snape grunted softly. The girl might be a genius, but she was also genuinely insane. Insane, but harmless.

“Hi, Luna. Ooh look, it’s starting to snow!” Potter said excitedly. The little hand in his clutched more tightly onto him, as the boy gazed up delightedly. His scarf unravelled as Potter stretched his neck up, leaving it bare and exposed. Snape had the most overwhelming urge to bury his face in that neck, to smell Potter’s skin and bite it. To mark him so that everyone would know that Snivellus was good enough for Harry Potter.

“Oh no! I wanted to buy some mistletoe, but the snow will make the nargles angry! They can get ever so vicious, I should hurry. Bye, Severus! Bye Harry!” Luna said, suddenly more energetic than Snape had ever seen her as she left in a swirl of brightly coloured robes. 

“I didn’t know you were friends with Luna,” Potter said as they watched her hurrying away. Snape shrugged. He wouldn’t say that they were friends; she waved at him in the corridor sometimes and they always sat together in Ancient Runes. It was like having his own personal, talking Rune dictionary. 

“She’s very intelligent,” 

“Yeah. Yeah, she is. It’s a shame more people don’t see that,” Potter said sadly. 

The cold made Potter’s skin even paler than usual, contrasting beautifully with his dark hair to make him look like some sort of delicate woodland nymph. Potter shivered and Snape wondered why he didn’t cast a heating charm on himself. He could offer to do it, the idea of his magic warming the boy, of wrapping round his body, seemed strangely personal. Strangely alluring. 

“Do you want to go inside and warm up? We could get some butterbeer,” Snape asked instead of offering the heating charm. Potter blinked up at him, his limpid green eyes frustratingly hidden behind his glasses. 

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty cold,” Potter said, turning away and starting to walk towards the Three Broomsticks. Snape hurried to keep up and not let Potter’s hand slip out of his own. 

He had it. The inspiration for his second Guild potion. He was going to make a potion to correct Potter’s vision. Of course, people had tried to make eye correcting potions before but they were never very good and, sometimes, even spectacularly Dark. The inventor of the Lense Liquefying Elixir had, after all, been trying to make a healing potion. 

Potter dropped his hand as he opened the door to the pub and they were greeted with a gust of hot air and the noisy chatter of the Three Broomstick’s customers. 

“Do you want to get a table and I’ll get the drinks?” Potter asked. Snape instantly drew himself up. Was Potter insinuating that Snape wouldn’t be able to afford two butterbeers?

“I’ll get the drinks,” Snape said coldly, but Potter didn’t seem to notice as he wandered off in search of a quiet corner.

“Severus Snape! As I live and breathe! I’ve heard so many rumours about you!” the busty barmaid leered at him. He was sure she was referring to rumours about his older self and not worth asking about.

“Two butterbeers.”

“The way I heard it,” the woman, Rosamerta, Snape distantly recalled, “Harry Potter himself sat by your bedside all the time you was in that coma, just waiting for you to wake up.”

Snape shoved some coins down on to bar and picked up the two butterbeers. How dare this woman gossip about him and Potter.

“I’ve no idea, perhaps you should ask him.” Snape spat out as he walked away with the drinks. Now he thought about it, it was odd that Potter had happened to be there when he woke up. Potter must have been sitting there for quite sometime, just on the off chance that he woke up. It was an exhilarating feeling. Potter’s hand was resting on the table when Snape joined him and, his confidence high, Snape reached out and gently held onto Potter’s fingers.

For a second he thought Potter would pull away. Was it more meaningful to hold hands like this than when they had been walking around?

“I’m not really used to, to wizards being so open about touching in public. I keep on thinking everyones looking and disapproving.”

“No-one’s looking, maybe a few muggleborns are disapproving, but that hardly matters. I think your friends might disapprove though,” Snape asked slyly. He wouldn’t let his jealousy show, but he wanted to know if the sidekicks were trying to poison Potter against him. 

“Not really. Ron’s, well, he doesn’t seem to understand that you’re not Professor Snape anymore, but he’s not that bad. I think it’s just that he’s really embarrassed about Ginny being so angry all the time. And Hermione...Well, she knows that you’re not your older self, but she just says that I don’t know anything about you. Which is ridiculous. Anyway, she’s never really had any competition before. She’s always been the brightest in the year, and now you’re here she’s feeling a bit threatened, but it’s nothing personal.”

Snape nodded, pleased. He personally took great pleasure in being better than Granger, but it sounded like she wasn’t trying to turn Potter against him. 

“I don’t mean for it to be a competition,” Snape said graciously. Potter snorted inelegantly.

“Yeah, right. I hear you both break curfew nearly every night just so you can stay in the library longer. Sounds pretty competitive to me.”

“Just because I want to make sure that my homework is well researched, does not mean it’s a competition with anyone else.”

“You know,” Potter said cheekily, ”Thats exactly what Hermione says.”

Silence descended and Snape panicked. Potter was looking contentedly at their interlocking fingers and didn’t seem uncomfortable with the silence. He cast about for something to say but Potter beat him to it.

“Oh, have you run into any of the sixth and seventh year Slytherins? Are they alright?”

“I met them on the first weekend back, but I haven’t seen them since.”

“Huh, I wonder if they’re avoiding you. There’s one or two visiting most Sundays, but they don’t tend to stay long. They only have permission to talk to the teachers and they aren’t really supposed to go anywhere but the teacher’s office and then leave. I had Malfoy yell at me last weekend though.”

“Are you going to report him?” Snape asked. He was immensely relieved to not have seen any of the older Slytherins since that one hostile encounter. 

“Nah, it’s not a big deal,” Potter shrugged. His fingers fit so very neatly between Snape’s own, but Snape couldn’t help but be annoyed.

“That family has been getting away with atrocities for generations, just because they have the money to buy themselves out of trouble. I’m sure Malfoy junior is just as self-entitled as his father,” Snape fumed, but was dismayed when Potter’s fingers stilled and started to withdraw.

“Draco’s nothing like Lucius. Don’t judge him when you don’t even know him. He can’t help that his father is an arse!” Potter said vehemently and Snape realised he would have to tread very carefully. He leaned forward, pushing his hand back into Potter’s.

“It is difficult, when they look so similar and Lucius was the one who was always trying to persuade me to join the Dark Lord.”

“So that’s it? You didn’t like his father, so you refuse to have anything to do with him?” Potter sounded angry and he started to pull away again. Snape panicked and suddenly realised his mistake. Snape had hated Potter’s father, and if Snape judged Draco entirely on Lucius then perhaps he would start to hate Potter for his own bullying father. 

“No! If you vouch for him, then I will try to get on with him. But he expects so much of my attention. He wanted me to teach him potions!”

“Yeah,” Potter smiled, “Draco’s a brat, but give him a chance? I'm not saying you have to like him, just, you know, dislike him for who he is, not who his father is.”

“Very well. Are you hungry? It’s lunchtime.” One of the delights of being youngified was having his older self’s bank account. Not that he had really spent anything. But in the past even buying a butterbeer would have been a considerable stretch on his finances. Now he could think about actually buying lunch out, even though there was a free meal at Hogwarts. 

“A bit. I’ll go and get us some sandwiches, another butterbeer?” Potter called out as he stood up. Snape nodded. This was another of those moments when Potter left him speechless. Even when he was with Lily she would make him feel bad about being unable to pay for things. Of course it had always been unintentional, but that little kernel of bitterness, that desire to show them all that he was more than some working class guttersnipe, was always there. Yet with Potter it was different. Potter was just so unassumingly honest that there was no way that he could take offense. 

“So,” Potter began as he slipped back into their booth, “What are your plans for Christmas?”

“I will remain at Hogwarts. The Guild require two more potions, after all, so I shall very busy. Will you be at Hogwarts?” Snape hated the way his voice sounded hopeful, but Potter didn’t seem to notice. Or, perhaps he did, but chose not to take advantage, to not mock him for exposing too much of himself.

“No. I almost wish I was though. I promised Mrs Weasley I’d spend the whole holidays at the Burrow, the Weasley’s place.”

Snape couldn’t help the way his hand clutched convulsively at his butterbeer. Potter was spending his holidays with the Weasley tart, plus that one-eared Weasley who went around propositioning young men. 

“You should come,” Potter said cheerfully, ”Not for the whole holiday if you’re busy, but maybe for Christmas dinner? I’m sure the Weasleys would love to have you there. I think George is quite fond of you actually,” Potter trailed off sullenly. Was Potter jealous? It was so heartwarming that Snape agreed to the dinner in a rush. 

“Good,” Potter smiled so widely that Snape wished he could accept all over again, just so Potter would smile like that again. “She asked me ages ago, before term started and I thought I’d want to get away from Hogwarts. It… It seemed creepy, going back there. After what happened there, school shouldn’t be a place where children die, it shouldn’t be a battlefield. It should have been safe.”

“Sometimes,” Snape hesitated. He knew he was rubbish at times like these, he never quite said the right thing when he tried to comfort anyone. Or rather, when he tried to comfort Lily. “Terrible things happen, and you overcome them by not letting them affect you. By continuing on. Did you ever stay awake in a History lesson? Do you recall, during Arkgor’s rebellion, in 1473, goblins infiltrated the school. They massacred everyone in the Hufflepuff Common Room. But the school wasn’t closed down. Hufflepuff didn’t stop being a House, they carried on, albeit with remarkably fewer members.”

Potter frowned, avoiding looking at Snape for long seconds before finally responding. 

“You know, I’m not sure that most people would be comforted by that. The idea that it’s ok that people died there, because people have died there in the past, but I rather like it. It’s kind of proof that Hogwarts can withstand anything.”

Snape relaxed and felt the last of his tension leaving him. Why had he ever worried about talking to Potter? It was simplicity itself. After that realisation, the afternoon flew past without the conversation lagging. Their hands rested on the table, holding on to each other and letting their fingers interlace. Potter didn’t seem to be bothered by it, but the constant touching meant that Snape couldn’t stop his cock from twitching and threatening to harden.

As it grew time for them to return to school, they slipped into the crisp afternoon. Winter was drawing in and it was already starting to get a little dark. Their hands fell together easily now. Neither fumbled. Snape reached for Potter at the same time as Potter reached for him. It was perfect. 

The walk back to Hogwarts was slow and even though they didn’t really talk Snape felt truly comfortable for most of the walk. When they were almost halfway back Snape was hit by a thought. When they reached Hogwarts they would have to part, and the traditional way to end a date was with a kiss. Would Potter expect him to kiss him? Did he dare? He wanted to. He desperately wanted to. 

They turned the last bend in the path, just metres away from Hogwart’s gates and Snape felt his heart pounding and his palm sweaty in Potter’s hand. There was a vaguely familiar man standing between them and the gates and for a second Snape was almost relieved. They were hardly about to kiss in front of this stranger, but Potter tensed, let go of his hand and reached for his wand. 

For a split second of pure agony, Snape knew that this whole date had been a prank, a joke to make him relax his guard and now Potter was about to strike. Snape’s wand was in his hand before Potter’s was. 

The man smiled manically at the pair of them and Potter yelled out.

_”Lestrange!”_


	13. Chapter 13

There was a brief moment of calm. Each man holding his wand defensively but no-one ready to make the first move. Potter’s wand shot off a silvery shadow that seemed to run towards the castle and the tense truce was ended. 

“Crucio!” Lestrange screamed, his wand aimed at Potter, but Snape was faster. He, after all, had no need to scream his spells. Wordlessly he cast _Protego Horribilis_ on Potter to protect him from the worst effects of Dark Magic. His protective spell must have had some success. Potter was not writhing in agony, but he still fell to knees in obvious pain. 

He was furious. How dare this man try and harm Potter!

Snape cast another wordless spell at Lestrange and a column of flame engulfed the Death Eater. Lestrange let out a bellow of rage as he realised that he was trapped behind a fiery wall. 

“Snape, the Aurors will be here soon. Don’t cast anything Dark!” Potter gasped out as he rose to his feet. He still wasn’t fully recovered. With his attention turned to Potter, Snape couldn’t maintain the pillar of fire that was trapping Lestrange and the fire spluttered out, but Lestrange was gone. 

Snape hadn’t heard the crack of an Apparition. Lestrange could easily have made himself invisible. Snape swung his wand back and forth, listening for the slightest noise that would indicate where Lestrange was hiding. If only he could Apparate, he’d be able to get Potter safely away. Of course Potter, the boy who thought it was his personal responsibility to catch all the remaining Death Eaters, wasn’t going to Apparate them away. 

Besides him, Potter stood in a clumsy defensive posture. The averted Unforgivable must have drained the boy. He could not stand there and wait to be attacked, especially not when Potter might be in pain; even if that meant using Dark Magic.

“Manupus,” Snape whispered, forcing the spell to be stronger and making it envelop all of the path in front of them. Lestrange screamed out in agony and became visible again. He had moved even closer to them, but his wand was now falling from his bloody and pus covered hands. Snape’s spell had worked. 

“Severus! I have no quarrel with you, put down your wand and let me take the boy. It’s me, Rabastan, we have always been friends, have we not? When your mother died, I offered you hospitality, a place in my home. I offered to track down and kill your muggle father. Surely we are friends?”

It was true. Last summer, after his mother’s death, he had been entirely alone. His father had disappeared. Lily was not speaking to him and the only people who had shown any concern for him at all had been Lucius and his friends. 

There was a crack of apparition further along the path, then another and another. The Aurors were here! Snape couldn’t see anyone though. Lestrange might still be able to hurt Potter. 

The Death Eater looked wild. He must have realised he didn’t have much time left to attack them. Lestrange rushed at Potter, leaping into the air to try and grab at the boy. This time both Snape and Potter were ready for him. 

Potter hit him with a stunning spell just as Snape grabbed Potter’s wrist and his Apparatingkey and yelled ‘home’. Just as they were whisked away, Snape saw Lestrange topple over and two Aurors come running along the path, their wands drawn and ready to attack. 

Snape blinked and the scene was gone, but he wasn’t in Spinner’s End. They were in his bedroom, in the Slytherin dungeon. This was what McGonagall had meant by saying the Apparatingkey was an unreliable means of transport. It would always take him to wherever he regarded as home. So, now that he was living at Hogwarts, and felt this place was his home, it had brought him here, even though that had not been his intention. 

“Where are we?” Potter asked, shaking slightly with the after-effects of the Cruciatus. 

“Slytherin. Are you well?” he pressed a hand to Potter’s forehead and the boy practically melted against him. Sweet Merlin, the skin on his face was so soft. Snape wanted to stroke it, to caress it. He snatched his hand back before he could give himself away.

Potter slumped down onto his bed. An intrigued Caracalla, disturbed from his late afternoon nap, jumped up onto the bed. The cat meowed heartily at Potter, until Potter started to stroke him.

“Oh hello there,” Potter spoke softly as Caracalla started to purr,”Yeah, I feel fine. Just tired, I guess.”

“Harry!” a Patronus scurried into the room and Granger’s shrill voice rang out from some sort of ugly rodent, “Where are you? Lestrange is in custody. We thought you were in the hospital wing. Please come up and have Madam Pomfrey make sure you’re alright. Or, if you’re hurt, let us know where you are.” The magical rodent melted away. 

“I guess we better get going then. Thanks, for what you did out there. I’ve never even heard of those spells! And how did you get us back here? Come up with me to the hospital wing and explain on the way?”

Snape repressed a sigh. If he had ever had a chance of kissing Potter, it was long gone. He started for the door, but Potter stopped him. 

“Wait! Was what he said about your parents true?” Potter asked hesitantly. Snape nodded curtly, his hair falling into his face untidily as he moved so abruptly. If Potter looked at him with pity then he would tell him to get out and never came back, no matter how attractive he was. 

“I’m sorry,” Potter said quietly and, although Snape looked hard into his eyes, he could not find the slightest trace of pity. 

“It’s fine,” and really it was fine. He was far better off without his parents. His witch mother, who allowed herself to be cowed into not using magic, even when it could have saved her own life. His muggle father who had regularly drunk himself into a stupor and routinely threatened to never come home. He had finally made good on his threats after his mother’s death and Snape didn’t care if he ever saw the bastard again. After all these years the old man was probably dead anyway and there wasn't room in Snape's heart to grieve for him. 

“Come on. If we’re not in the hospital wing soon they’ll just come down here and I don’t want Slytherin invaded,” Snape said, unwilling to talk more about his parents. He’d much rather tell Potter about the spells he had used. The _Manupus_ spell was practically archaic. It had been, even if said so himself, a very impressive piece of spellwork. 

As they were leaving the Common Room, Snape remembered one of the potions that he had seen in his storeroom. One that his older self had made to counter the after effects of the Cruciatus. Changing direction abruptly, he dragged Potter towards the Tapestry Corridor and away from the hospital wing. Potter was either too out of it, or too trusting. He made no comment, but just stumbled after Snape. 

“Here,” Snape shoved the potion bottle into the boy’s hand. “This should help.”

Potter sat down on one of the rungs of the ladder inside the store room, his head almost level with Snape’s crotch. He didn’t make a sound of protest before he downed the potion, his lips forming a tight circle around the phial. It was unbearably erotic. Potter was unwell, he shouldn’t be aroused by this. A drop of potion escaped Potter’s lips and ran down to his chin. Snape watched it fall and cling to that porcelain skin. He could not look away.

“I...Thanks. I didn’t think that I’d been affected at all, I just thought I was tired, but I feel great now.” Potter said, oblivious to the potion on his face. Snape leaned down and wiped it off with his thumb. Potter shuddered slightly, his head relaxing onto Snape’s hand. “We, er, we should go.”

* * *

“Really, I’m fine. I did exactly like I promised, I sent for help instead of fighting by myself. And anyway, Snape was there and he was great, he used spells I’ve never even seen before.” 

“Dark spells,” Weasley muttered, but Potter ignored him and continued.

“He hit me with the Cruciatus, but Snape shielded me and he just gave me a potion too. I feel great! Hermione, don’t look so upset, it’s alright.” Potter patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, but the next minute Granger was marching straight towards Snape. Potter had been right, she looked on the verge of tears. Surely she couldn’t blame him for Potter getting hurt? 

Granger threw herself at him and Snape tensed, assuming this was a physical attack. He wouldn’t respond in front of so many witnesses, but he’d been waiting for this day for weeks. The day that Granger’s temper finally got the better of her. 

“Thank you! I don’t know what would have happened to Harry if you hadn’t been there!” Granger sobbed. Snape pushed her away and froze when he saw that she really was crying. 

“Calm down, Hermione. It was only one Death Eater, and the Aurors were there in seconds. He’s probably on his way to Azkaban right now.” Potter called out.

“Yeah, plus it was Snape’s fault that Harry was out there anyway! He shouldn’t -” the Weasley clod was cut off by Potter. 

“Ron!” Potter slapped the idiot lightly on the arm, “I asked him to Hogsmeade! Plus, I’m not going to hid, just cos there are a few Death Eaters loose.”

“Mr Potter, if you don’t sit back on that bed and relax then I shall have to send everyone away,” Madam Pomfrey came bustling in followed by McGonagall and a troubled looking Shacklebolt.

“I’m afraid that we have bad news about Lestrange,” McGonagall began. Potter sat up quickly, but Pomfrey seemed too worried now to notice. Snape edged away from Granger and closer to Potter. Weasley was sitting on Potter’s bed in an overly familiar way. He was the one who had been on a date with Potter, he should be the one sitting on his bed. 

“Lestrange escaped,” Shacklebolt started. The Gryffindors, rather than wait for the man to continue, all burst out with shocked exclamations. Shacklebolt held up his hand for silence before resuming, “He was in custody. We had him in a cell. I’m afraid there is no possible way that he could have escaped without assistance.”

“Like when Crabbe and Jugson escaped with the help of non-marked Death Eaters?” Weasley asked gormlessly.

“Unfortunately, no. There was no outside interference. Someone inside the Ministry, possibly even an Auror, must have aided him.” Shacklebolt’s gravelly voice sounded very sad, to him this must seem like a personal betrayal. “I wanted to let you know personally; if any Aurors come to the school, if anyone wants to interview you about what happened, then let me know and treat them as suspicious. There’s no reason for them to contact you and, now I know we have a traitor in our midst, we have to be very cautious. I’m calling an Order meeting for tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully I’ll have some more information by then.”

“But I thought you’d got rid of any Aurors who were sympathetic to Voldemort?” Granger squeaked undiplomatically. Shacklebolt sighed wearily. 

“So did I, Miss Granger, so did I. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Shacklebolt said as he left, looking like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Snape finally reached Potter’s bed and grabbed hold of the railing along the foot of the bed. 

“What are you still doing here, Snape?” Weasley asked rudely, suddenly noticing him. Snape wished he could hex the little shite, but Potter would definitely disapprove of that.

“All of you out! Mr Potter needs rest and I’ll have no squabbling in front of a patient,” Pomfrey snapped and began shooing them towards the door. Professor McGonagall marched out, but Snape and the two Gryffindors were much slower to leave. 

“But I’m fine, really! I don’t need to be here,” Potter wailed. 

“No patient of mine is going to be unmonitored after getting hit by the Cruciatus, young man,” Pomfrey said indignantly. Potter’s responding plea was cut short as the three left the Infirmary and the thick wooden door was slammed shut behind them. 

Weasley glared at him hatefully, but didn’t say anything else. Granger, after a worried glance between the two of them, pulled Weasley away by the arm.

“Come one, Ron. We’d better get back to the Common Room. Everyone will be worried. Good-night, Snape!” she called out over her shoulder. Before Snape could get over his shock, Weasley gave a grunt that sounded suspiciously like good night too. 

Snape watched them walk away before turning to head down to the dungeons. There was a lot to think about. Potter and he had gone on a date; did that mean that they were _going out?_ And, if they were going out, did that mean that Potter was his boyfriend? It was an intoxicating thought. It filled him with sheer delight. Another thought struck him and he almost laughed out loud. James Potter would be rolling in his grave if he knew that Potter was _Snivellus’_ boyfriend.

But, no. He couldn’t get ahead of himself. He didn’t know anything for sure, they hadn’t even kissed. But then, Lily had gone out with boys, never kissed them and said that they counted as boyfriends. It was so agonising.

He missed Lily, suddenly and completely, for the first time in weeks. She would always tell him about her dates with boys, she’d rush back from Hogsmeade and tell him everything that had happened. They had never been particularly serious occasions, but she would always tell him everything. Whether they had gone to Madam Puddifoot’s, what they talked about, whether they held hands. But now that he had finally been on a date there was no-one to talk about it to. 

Tomorrow Granger and Weasley would probably hear all about his date with Potter. They’d know what Potter thought about him and he hated it. It was too foul to think about. He didn’t want Potter gossiping about him. Their date should be private. 

He clenched his fist and resisted the temptation to hit the wall. He could not be jealous of the sidekicks. He couldn’t let Potter know how much he resented them. He needed to talk to someone. Someone he could trust, except he’d only ever trusted two people in his life. Himself and Lily. She was gone and he couldn’t exactly talk to himself, or perhaps he could. Snape smiled as he realised there was someone still around that could be trusted with his secrets and who would know exactly how he felt. _Himself!_


	14. Chapter 14

His duvet was still wrinkled from where Potter had sat on his bed, an imprint of his arse was all that was left. Snape smoothed the duvet. He had half expected to still feel the heat from Potter’s body, but of course, his bed was cold.

* * *

As soon as he saw McGonagall enter the Great Hall for lunch, Snape snuck away. Once again, the gargoyle that guarded the Headmistress’ Office slid away and allowed him entrance even though he didn’t even try to guess the password. He tried to tread carefully and be as silent as possible, as much as he wanted to talk to his older self, he had no desire to hear _Dumbledore’s_ thoughts on this matter. 

His older self’s eyes fixed on him the second Snape was through the door. Glancing to the side, he noted with relief that the portrait of Dumbledore was dozing. 

Snape could not imagine that he would ever look like his older self. Dark eyes analysed him coolly and Snape had no idea if his older self’s portrait was even pleased to see him. 

“Rumours have been abounding about you, Mr Snape,” his older self’s voice was low and, somehow, more controlled than his own. The words seemed unnecessary confrontational and Snape resisted the urge to reply acerbically. He was here for advice. 

“I went on a date. I took Potter to Hogsmeade,” he said bluntly. Headmaster Snape paled. 

“You don’t find the similarities to his father off putting?”

“He’s not that similar. He’s,” Snape shivered as he remembered Potter’s slim form writhing against him each time that Snape had pushed him against him a wall. His small fingers that were so easily encompassed by Snape’s larger hands. “He’s smaller.”

“And the attitude? The arrogance?” the old Headmaster pressed. Snape frowned at him. Perhaps this had been a mistake, what could a middle aged man know about his troubles?

“Did you ever...How did you stop?” Snape spluttered, “How can you ever trust someone not to leave you, to turn away when you do something they don’t like?” 

The Headmaster didn’t answer at once and Snape felt himself blushing under the man’s heavy gaze. 

“If I knew that, foolish boy, do you think you would be standing there now? If you want Potter, then all you have to do is take him. I have been inside his mind. I know what it is he yearns for above all else. Security. Home. Family.”

“You used Legilimency on him?” Snape interrupted with a gasp. He had read about that branch of magic and he had desperately wanted to learn it, but in order to practice he would have needed the help of someone he could trust implicitly. Someone he could completely let his guard down in front of and trust with all his secrets. Needless to say, he had abandoned any hope of learning either Legilimency or Occlumency after that. 

“Indeed.”

“So, what do I do?”

“I cannot give you a cure for jealousy, but I know how to bind the boy to you so tightly that he will never leave you. Although,” the Headmaster sniffed loudly, “I’ve no idea why you would choose _him_ of all people.”

“Severus,” a gentle voice interrupted and Snape jumped backwards in surprise. Dumbledore had woken up. “Is this really what you had hoped for when you chose to return to your youth?”

“Albus, this is not the time for you meddling,” the older Snape glared at Snape as his portrait couldn’t see Dumbledore’s. “Although, you may be right. Severus, simply by asking me such things you have exceeded my expectations. I cannot help you, but if you ever find a solution I would be fascinated to hear it.” 

“You _won’t_ help me?”

Headmaster Snape reared back angrily within his painting. 

“Many people might think that I have helped you quite enough by forfeiting my life for you, you ungrateful little wretch,” he hissed. 

“Mr Snape,” Dumbledore rudely broke in, but paused as the door behind Snape opened, “Ah, there you are, Minerva my dear. Mr Snape has been gracing us with his presence.”

“Indeed, Albus,” the Headmistress said tiredly as she sat down at her desk. Even McGonagall must get tired of Dumbledore’s ceaseless jabbering. “Although, I must say, Sev - Mr Snape, I have been most impressed by your progress this term. Every teacher is singing your praises, especially since you have become more vocal in class. You have become a pleasure to teach!” Snape glanced embarrassedly at Headmaster Snape, but he looked proud, rather than annoyed that his younger self had become a show off.

“Do sit down, the others should be along shortly.Tea?” McGonagall raised her wand just as someone knocked on her office door. Before she could call out, the door swung open and a veritable troop of people stumbled in. 

Shacklebolt was followed by Potter and his sidekicks and a gaggle of people that Snape didn’t know. Far too many of them had ginger hair for his liking, although thankfully the ginger slut wasn’t there. The one-eared Weasley leered and winked at him, but Snape pretended not to notice him. 

“Oi, what’s he doing here?” Ron Weasley yelled as everyone else settled down, conjuring chairs to form a semicircle in front of the Headmistress’ desk.

“Sit down, Ron,” Granger hushed him, pulling him down by his shirt on to the seat next to her. Weasley sat down but continued to complain. 

“I just don’t understand why Ginny isn’t allowed to be here, but Snape is. It’s not like he ever actually joined the Order.”

Snape wanted to hear more, it was plainly true that he had never chosen to join the Order of the Phoenix, hadn’t known about today’s meeting, but he did want to stay. However the Weasley matriarch was suddenly in front of him wearing that cheery smile he just knew meant she was going to try and embrace him again. Snape sat down hurriedly. Mrs Weasley sat down beside him and Snape gritted his teeth.

“Oh Severus! I was so glad to hear that you’ll be with us for Christmas dinner.”

Behind her, he saw the portrait of his older self, his face twisting in horror.

“I don’t want to impose,” Snape said through clenched teeth, he hadn’t thought much beyond seeing Potter over the holidays, and perhaps steering him away from rogue Weasleys, but now he began to realise he might have let himself in for much, much more. 

The one-eared Weasley sat down on the other side of him. 

“Oh no, Snape. It’s no imposition. We’ve been hearing all kinds of good things about you. I’ve even heard tell of you making flavoured healing potions for the hospital wing. Pomfrey must love you.”

Snape shrugged. Pomfrey had been grateful for the potions he’d made before term started, even though she had been quite surprised that they had all been cherry flavoured. 

“So, you given any more thought to selling a few potions? Even just those healing potions would go down a treat. How about it?”

Shacklebolt stood up and cleared his throat loudly so that the room fell silent as people’s chatter died down. 

“Think about it,” Weasley whispered to him, “We could make a fortune!”

Snape scowled at him. He wanted to hear what Shacklebolt had to say. Plus, if he wanted to sell his potions, he’d follow Potter’s advice and start his own apothecary. 

“Well,” Shacklebolt began,”I didn’t expect to have another Order meeting this soon! In case anyone isn’t aware, Harry and Severus were attacked by Rabastan Lestrange yesterday,” a few people around the room gasped but Shacklebolt just smiled grimly. “Fortunately they are both fine. In fact, by the time the Aurors arrived, they had both got away, leaving Lestrange unconscious for the Aurors to take into custody. That is where the problem lies. Somehow, despite being put in a cell at the heart of the Ministry, Lestrange managed to escape. 

“At first, I assumed that it must have been one of the Aurors. However, now I’m less certain. I can’t prove it, but I suspect that Dolores Umbridge may have been involved - “ the room erupted as people began to yell.

“What? Umbridge!”

“I can’t believe the Wizengamot cleared her!” 

“Bloody Dawlish, made everyone feel sorry for her with that stupid -”

“Now, now. There isn’t any proof, but the only Aurors who went near his cell were people I would trust with my life. I don’t know how she did it, but she was seen near the cell last night and she had no reason to be there. 

“The question is, why would she release him? Her own freedom is tenuous, she hurt too many people during the War. There is even a petition to have her case reviewed because so many people want to see her in Azkaban.”

A timid looking wizard who was hovering outside the semicircle of chairs, put his hand up and started to speak. 

“I was in York last week and Norman Smith was there, giving a speech about Viking federalism, er, anyway. Afterwards, I saw Umbridge there! She and Smith even left together, which struck me as rather strange.” 

“He’s a muggleborn, he should be baying for her blood!” an older Weasley called out. 

“Unless,” Potter began hesitantly, but the room quietened so that everyone could hear him, “Smith was furious when I said I wouldn’t support his campaign.”

“Yeah, he was practically unhinged,” Ron Weasley chimed in. “He kept on saying that Harry had been too lenient, that he shouldn’t have appeared at Malfoy’s trial, or defended Snape even.”

“Perhaps, perhaps this has something to do with the election. I mean, if Lestrange had hurt me, then that might have swayed people to vote for Smith, he is pushing for much harsher punishments of everyone who was involved with the Death Eaters. Maybe he’s using Umbridge, promising her that he’ll keep her out of Azkaban if she arranges things for him.”

“But, why release Lestrange?” someone called out.

“Well, either so that he couldn’t tell the Aurors who he was working for, or because they want him to have another go.”

“Smith is trailing in the polls and an attack on you would probably give him more support. But, with no proof, there is very little that I can do. Once the election is over things will be different, if I try to investigate Smith now it will seem like a political manoeuvre and won’t be taken seriously. In the meantime, for the next few days, Harry, I want you to be on your guard. If Smith is willing to stoop to getting involved with Umbridge then Merlin knows what else he might do.”

Potter slumped in his chair. If he had been sitting next to Potter he would have put a comforting arm around him.

* * *

Slowly, members of the Order trickled out of the Headmistress’ office. How had these people ever fought Death Eaters when they seemed happiest sitting around, drinking tea and nattering like old women? He wanted to leave, but Potter was there and, occasionally, the boy looked his way and smiled. 

“Mr Snape,” McGonagall said just as Snape took a sip of tepid, over-brewed tea. “I was happy to learn that you had found a use for the Apparatingkey, but I am curious as to why you haven’t been attending the Apparition classes this term.”

Snape swallowed very, very slowly. Obviously, if he had known there were classes he would have been going to them.

“I wasn’t aware that was an option.”

“Hmm. Well, that must have been an oversight,” McGonagall said diplomatically, but Snape was livid. Damn Slughorn! He could have learnt to apparate weeks ago. He’d already passed the test, as long as he had a little practical experience he’d be comfortable doing it by himself. Standing angrily, he excused himself and stalked from the room, fuming. 

“Snape! Wait up!” someone yelled. It was Potter, he’d followed him out of McGonagall’s office. Snape stopped and let the boy catch up. “I wanted to say, I’m not sure we’ll have a chance to, er, talk before the Christmas holidays. So, I wanted to wish you a merry Christmas.” Potter’s didn’t look up at his eyes, but stared fixedly at Snape’s mouth. Was this Snape’s chance? Should he risk kissing Potter? He’d been robbed of a kiss at the end of their date, surely he deserved one now.

Snape stepped closer, so that their bodies almost touched, and remembered his older self’s words. _If you want Potter, then all you have to do is take him._

“Harry, mate!” the Weasley boy called out from above them. Snape heard the door of the Headmistress’ office shut heavily behind him and the buffoon’s heavy tread on the stairs. Weasley hadn’t seen them yet, but he would any second. Snape didn’t move, let Weasley find them like this, he didn’t mind. 

“Here, Ron!” Potter called out, stepping away from Snape. “I’d better go, but I’ll see you at the Burrow soon.”

Potter slipped past him and Snape was left staring at the stone wall. 

“Oh, was that Snape?” Weasley began, but surprised Snape by making no further comment,”What do you think about Smith, eh? I told you he was a nutter.”

“Yeah,” Potter agreed, with one last, backwards glance at Snape.


	15. Chapter 15

“I could stay with you for Christmas, except my Dad is all alone, and he can’t come to Hogwarts.”

“There is no need to worry. I will hardly be alone in the castle, “ Snape raised his voice to make himself heard over the din of all the other First Years in the Common Room. 

Burbage hopped from foot to foot, looking dangerously like she was going to try and hug him goodbye. Snape picked up Caracalla, who had been batting a dead fiddler scarab between his paws in front of the roaring fire. The cat meowed with annoyance as Snape held him up to ward Burbage off. One of the other First Years turned to yell at Burbage to hurry up.

“Oh, the train, I have to go. Merry Christmas, Severus,” she scratched the cat behind his ear, ”Bye, Caracalla.” She turned and ran towards her yearmates. A few of them yelled goodbyes to Snape too. He stared after them, counting them to make sure that all the Slytherin First Years were leaving as they should be. Satisfied, he turned and headed for the Potions’ lab. It was going to be a long holiday of potions experiments and he could barely restrain his excitement. 

He’d only just finished setting up when the door creaked open and Potter edged into the lab.

“Hi. I wasn’t sure if you were busy experimenting, and you said before about not interrupting a potioneer mid-experiment.”

“It’s fine,” Snape said curtly. He turned the copper flask he was holding upside down, then righted it. He started to flip it again before hastily putting the blasted thing down on the desk. He didn’t want it to look like was fidgeting, he wasn’t nervous. 

“The train’s already left, but we’re Apparating to the Burrow, so we can be a bit late. I thought I’d come and say goodbye.” Potter came closer and Snape saw that the boy was slightly flushed and breathing more heavily than he should be, even though his voice had sounded calm. Had Potter run down here to say goodbye?

Snape was touched. 

“It’s a shame you won’t be here all holiday,” Snape said quietly before slamming his mouth shut. What had possessed him to say something that laid him so open to ridicule?

“I’m going to miss you,” Potter responded. He didn’t look like he was lying, in fact he looked scared, as if Snape were the one who might ridicule him. Snape tried staring into his eyes, searching for some sign of duplicity, but he saw nothing. Perhaps, there was one person he could trust after all. 

“Have you heard of Legilimency?” Snape asked abruptly. Potter reared back like a slug with salt being poured onto it. 

“Someone once tried to teach me Occlumency, it didn’t go well. Why?” Potter’s voice sounded more combative than it ever had before. Snape was forcefully reminded that, despite their different temperaments, this was James Potter’s son. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, or why Potter was suddenly being so sharp with him. Snape nodded his head appeasingly. 

“It’s supposed to be much harder to learn Occlumency without knowing Legilimency. I was wondering if, after the holidays, you wanted to learn Legilimency together.“

Potter didn’t answer, but was just looking at him with an undecipherable expression on his face. 

“I can’t learn by myself, you have to study in pairs.” Snape struggled. Why had he even suggested this? Just because Potter had shown that he was trustworthy didn’t mean that he should have gone this far. He could feel himself getting angry. He didn’t want to say goodbye to Potter with an argument, especially as he was about to be sleeping under the same roof as the ginger slut. He’d only asked a simple question, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Snape gave one last attempt to persuade Potter. 

“If we learnt Legilimency we’d be able to communicate in class without talking, it would be like our own secret language.”

“Like mind reading?” Potter asked with a sly expression. Perhaps he did have a little Slytherin in him, if he was interested in reading people’s minds. 

“Yes! Exactly like mind reading,” Snape smiled as Potter relaxed and grinned at him. His smile was short lived. He didn’t know what had caused Potter’s strange reaction, and he didn’t like it. Part of Potter’s charm was his simplicity. There were never any hidden motivations, no pranks, no meanness. 

The thought was blown from his head when Potter stepped even closer, stood up on his tip toes and kissed Snape’s cheek. 

“In that case, we should learn Legilimency together.” Potter pulled away a little, “I have to go, but I’m glad you’re coming to the Burrow.”

Snape made an inarticulate noise as Potter turned and left. Potter had kissed him. Yes, it might not have been the type of kiss he’d wanted, but it was a kiss. Snape hadn’t had to plot or scheme to get it. Potter had just willingly kissed him. Snape touched his cheek with his finger tips. His cheek felt different, better somehow, where Potter had touched him.

* * *

There were very few students staying at Hogwarts over the holiday, but the two Ravenclaws were engaged in a very loud debate and it was interrupting Snape’s breakfast. He’d already identified where he believed the flaw in the Lense Liquefying Potion lay, if he could correct that then he might be close to a breakthrough. Last night he’d been up till gone midnight, just making bases to test today. 

“Mr Snape,” a high pitched voice squeaked behind from him. 

“Professor Flitwick.”

“I was wondering if you’re ready for our duel? In here in, say, an hour’s time?”

“That,” Snape said, gobsmacked, "Would be fine.” He’d been flattered enough that Flitwick had even asked him originally, he’d never expected Flitwick to actually duel with him. If he’d known, he would have researched Flitwick’s old duels and tried to find out what spells the wizard favoured, and how to counter them.

* * *

Flitwick pointed his wand at Snape and cast a Containment Charm. Fuck. He was trapped. The old goblin looked like he was flagging though, there was sweat dripping down his wrinkled forehead and he wasn’t making another move on Snape. He must be just as tired as Snape was and needed to use this as a break rather than pushing forward. 

Snape pretended to try and test the boundary of the Charm, but used Flitwick’s distraction to turn the tinsel in the Christmas tree behind him into a large snake. It would have worked brilliantly, except as soon as the snake tried to slither out of the tree, the bloody thing managed to overbalance the tree, making the whole thing topple to the floor in a cacophony of smashing glass and screaming fairies. 

Flitwick jumped round as if he were expecting a second opponent. 

Merlin, he felt drained and he was trying to remember spells and constantly keep track of which ones were considered Dark and which weren’t. There had to be a way out of this Containment Charm. He’d never felt one this strong before. 

“Filius! Severus! What is the meaning of this!” McGonagall screamed as the doors to the Great Hall flew open, the heavy wood hitting the stone wall with a resounding bang. 

“Minerva!” Flitwick squeaked like a naughty child. “I, that is to say, we were just having a bit of duel.”

“Filius,” McGonagall looked aghast, "You were duelling with a student?”

“A friendly duel, championship rules,” Filius said in a rush. Behind McGonagall, two house elves surveyed the wreckage that had been made of the Christmas decorations and started to cry with great heaving sobs. 

“I’m surprised at the pair of you! I’m just glad that Hagrid isn’t here to see the mess you made of his Christmas trees.”

Flitwick blushed and non-verbally ended the Charm holding Snape in place. The house elves, apparently convinced that Christmas was cancelled just because the Great Hall was a little messy, wailed even more loudly. 

“Oh, for -” McGonagall transfigured them both handkerchiefs. “Thank you for telling me about this, you can go back to the kitchens now. We’ll still be wanting lunch at the usual time.”

The two house elves left, still crying loudly, and McGonagall turned to face the two wizards. She didn’t look as angry as she had before. In fact, as she looked at Snape, her expression softened considerably. Surely she wasn’t going to give him detention for duelling with a teacher? 

“Mr Snape, I was led to believe that you would be very busy this holiday, that you had a potion to invent. Perhaps it would be best if you got on with that.” Snape nodded curtly, eager to get away from an angry looking Headmistress. “Filius, perhaps you would be good enough to banish that snake and start collecting those loose fairy lights?”

* * *

_Witherknot New Minister!_

_The Wizarding public has spoken! After months of election fever sweeping the nation, we can all finally calm down. Sylvan Witherknot has been elected the new Minister of Magic. Speaking this morning from his ..._

Snape supposed it was good news. If, as so many of the Order believed, the attack on Potter had been masterminded by Norman Smith as a ploy to win him more votes, then, with Witherknot as Minister, Potter was no longer in danger. Smith would have considerably less power now, and no reason to be sniffing around the Ministry. 

Another owl headed towards him as Snape sat at the breakfast table. The little thing hooted loudly before making a crash landing in the sugar bowl. There was a letter from Potter, Snape recognised the handwriting at once. Calming the excitable little owl with a piece of toast, Snape managed to get his letter.

_Snape,_  
_If you still want to come to the Burrow, then I’ll meet you at noon on Christmas Day in the Entrance Hall,  
Harry Potter_

It was painfully short. _If he still wanted to come?_ Had Potter changed his mind? Did he no longer want to see Snape over the holidays? Had the horribly oversexed Weasleys got to him? Well then the little brat would have to be man enough to actually tell him that in person. 

Snape thought about his older self’s advice. If he wanted Potter all he had to do was take him, that he could bind Potter to him by giving him the things he wanted: security, home and family. But, honestly, that made no sense. Wasn’t that what everyone wanted? The comfort of belonging. That was why he had got involved with Malfoy and his cronies, they had accepted him just as he was. It had been almost like having friends.

* * *

The days passed far too quickly. Snape found himself in the Potions lab before breakfast each day and stayed there long after midnight. It was tiring but so mentally stimulating. Snape wasn’t sure when he’d been happier. It was so wonderful to make Potions all day, to experiment with the measurements and ingredients. 

Perhaps there was something to Potter’s suggestion to starting his own apothecary. His older self had saved enough money that he could buy the premises. He’d be his own master and never have to answer to anyone. Except every customer. As much as he loved making potions, he had no wish to interact with members of the public on a daily basis.

* * *

Snape woke, refreshed, on Christmas morning. He’d gone to bed at a reasonable time last night. He didn’t want to have bags under his eyes when Potter told him he didn’t want him to come to the Burrow. He couldn’t look tired, Potter might think that he was upset. 

At the end of his bed was a small pile of presents. 

Snape stared at them in shock. People had actually thought of him and given him things. Even if all the presents were rubbish, it was more than he’d ever received at Christmas. There was crystal phial from Slughorn. Ostentatious and superfluous. The tag read, _Hoping you remember me once you’ve brewed your way to success._ Snape snorted. The man was hardly subtle. 

Flitwick had given him a wrist holster for his wand. These had been very popular in the Fifties, but by the Seventies had looked dreadfully old fashioned. Snape tried it on and decided that it was actually quite useful. He was hardly one to look down on something because it wasn’t fashionable. 

McGonagall had given him a scarf. It was tartan, but done in Slytherin green and silver. Snape almost burst out laughing when he saw it. It looked utterly ridiculous, but he put it on over his pyjamas and kept it on as he opened up his last present. 

It was from Burbage and the only one that had been wrapped by hand, rather than magic; the paper was crinkled and loose. She had got him a Weasley’s product! It was a self-writing quill. That would actually be quite useful for when he was mid-experiment and had to make a note about something but didn’t have a free hand.

* * *

It was almost noon and there was no sign of Potter. 

Snape flicked his tartan scarf and paced the length of the Entrance Hall again. How dare Potter keep him waiting like this. 

One of the large front doors was slowly pushed open and a figure stumbled in, out of the snow and strong wind. Potter was swathed, from head to toe, in more scarves and cloaks than Snape had ever seen one person wear. He shook himself, like a dog, and one scarf fell to the ground, it was almost entirely white, there was so much snow clinging to it. 

“Potter!” Snape yelled, the boy’s face was bright red and his clothes covered in snow. Potter gave a muffled hello and then started to wipe the snow off him. The heat of the room was making it melt, if they stayed here long the boy would be soaking wet. 

“Why don’t you use an Impervius Charm?” 

“Well,” Potter tried to scratch his ear, but a particularly fluffy scarf was in the way, “I suppose I don’t really think to use magic like that. It’s fine, are you ready to go?”

“Am I still welcome?” 

“What? Of course! Mrs Weasley has cooked so much I don’t know what we’ll do with it all unless you come.”

“So, I should come for Mrs Weasley’s sake, so that her food won’t go to waste?”

“No,” Potter said indignantly, ”Look, you’re the one who didn’t even respond when I kissed you goodbye. I’m the one who should be upset.”

Snape strode forward, all his worrying and it was because Potter had misread the situation. 

“Potter! You idiot!” Snape pulled at the fluffy scarf that was wrapped around his head, finally exposing a cold cheek. Bending down, he planted a chaste kiss on Potter’s cheek. The boy shivered but Snape couldn’t be sure if it was from the cold or from his kiss. 

He didn’t want to pull away from Potter, he wanted to kiss him again. Potter sneezed and Snape leapt backwards to avoid being head-butted. 

Potter sniffed loudly. It was the most unattractive thing he’d ever seen Potter do. Snape whipped out his wand and started casting spells. Potter didn’t even flinch, even though he cast the spells wordlessly and Potter wouldn't know what he was casting. He dried Potter’s clothes, covered him with a warming charm and even put an impervius charm on for good measure. His magic surrounded Potter almost like he was physically caressing the boy. This was more intimate than the kiss he’d just given Potter. 

“Thanks, er, if you’re ready then we should get going. Do you want me to do the same to you?” Potter said, making an abortive wand gesture with one hand and reaching into his pocket for his wand with the other. His thick robe was bunched and he struggled to get his wand out. The little idiot, what if Lestrange had ambushed him again and he couldn’t get to his wand quickly? 

_”Impervius.”_ Potter must have taken his silence for consent. He should be angry, but Potter’s magic was surrounding him and he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. It was like Potter was stroking him and then the feeling was gone and Snape yearned for more. His cock yearned for more. 

“I,” Snape coughed, “I’m ready.”


	16. Chapter 16

Wherever the Burrow was, it must be substantially warmer than Scotland. The ground had only a light dusting of snow, which meant Snape could see the Burrow with perfect clarity. It was the sort of house that Malfoy would have sneered at; would probably have burned it down if he could, for being a blot on the magical landscape of Britain. It was the type of house that was built with magic rather than money. If his father hadn’t hated magic, then maybe he would have been raised in a place like this. Snape didn’t want to like anything about the Weasleys, but their hospitality despite their obvious poverty was rather endearing. 

Potter pulled off a scarf but didn’t make any move towards the house. 

“So, this is the Burrow and everyone’s really glad that you said you’d come. Erm, yeah. Except, I should warn you that things have been a little tense. It’s the first Christmas without Fred, and Ginny’s been a bit off, still. She says that she’s going to get back together with Michael Corner, you know the Ravenclaw in Potions? That would be great, but Hermione thinks she’s just trying to make me jealous.”

Snape didn’t ask if Potter was jealous, although it took all his restraint.

* * *

“Severus! There you are!” Mrs Weasley pulled him into a hug. Snape patted her back awkwardly and waited for her to pull away. He’d only just been released when the one-eared Weasley grabbed him

“Severus!” George Weasley cried out sarcastically before pulling him into a hug too. Snape pushed him away, trying not to appear too violent. Somehow the lanky ginger managed to get hold of his arm and dragged him to even more ginger haired men. “You have to meet the rest of the family. This is Bill.”

A ginger man with a horribly scarred face shook his hand. He looked like he’d been savaged by some kind of magical creature. The man smiled and the scars wrinkled; it was morbidly fascinating to watch.

“And his wife, Fleur, is over there,” a blonde woman on the other side of the kitchen looked up and nodded at Snape before turning her attention back to the mess Ron Weasley was making as he stirred the eggnog. The woman had a rather Veela like quality to her and Snape instantly glanced at Potter. Veela attraction would affect him if he still had heterosexual leanings. He’d have to keep on eye on Potter, and see how he behaved in front of Fleur. 

“And this is our Charlie, dragon tamer extraordinaire,” a weathered looking man shook his hand. “And Arthur Weasley, my - “

“Severus!” the oldest ginger enthused happily as he pumped Snape’s hand. “It’s good to see you. I don’t suppose you remember now, but I was bitten by that ruddy snake as well. Of course, I only stayed in St Mungo’s for a week afterwards, but I suppose we’re both lucky to be alive.”

Snape didn’t snort and tell him that luck had nothing to do with it. His own survival was due to his older self’s potion making prowess, and Weasley’s survival sounded like it was due to the skill of the St Mungos healers. 

“Yes, what,” Snape pulled his hand out of Arthur Weasley’s sweaty grasp and pointed towards the small pile of plugs behind the man, “Magical use do you find for plugs?” If his father had known that wizards used electricity, he probably would have banned that too. 

Arthur Weasley’s eyes lit up and he positively shone with happiness. 

“Ron told me you were a half-blood, I had no idea, Severus. I don’t use them for magic, I collect them. Now, do you,” Weasley looked like he was about to wet himself with excitement, “Do you know how they work? Can you explain it to me?”

“Yes…” Snape drawled, he didn’t really have an interest in Muggle science, but he had always hated not knowing how things worked. He could certainly explain how a plug worked.

“Oh, Merlin. Well, that’s the last we’ll see of Dad or Snape,” the one-eared Weasley muttered as Arthur Weasley steered him out of the kitchen and into the relative calm of the parlour.

* * *

Snape had no idea how long he’d been sitting here, but he wanted to smash his head against a wall. No, he wanted to smash Arthur Weasley’s head against a wall.

“So, if the _election_ is unhappy it talks to the other elections and then they all move?”

In retrospect, he should never have tried to explain Muggle science to a pureblood. They were just physically incapable of understanding. 

“Electron. _E-lec-TRON!_ ”

He hadn’t meant to yell. He hated yelling. It always reminded him of his father and his pathetic attempts to try and command his respect simply by raising his voice. Snape knew that a deadly whisper could be far more intimidating than an angry shout. 

“Arthur! Did you even offer Severus a drink? Andromeda and Teddy are here.”

“Sorry, Molly. Eggnog, Severus?” a subdued Arthur Weasley stood up from the sofa just as Potter came in carrying a baby. 

“Mr Weasley gets excited about Muggle things, but there’s no need to yell at him.” Potter said, sitting down next to him. They were so close that Snape was surprised he couldn’t feel Potter’s thigh against his own. 

“Yes, well, have you ever actually tried to explain electricity to him? Because unless you have, then you can’t know that it isn’t entirely necessary to yell at him.”

Potter giggled and nudged him with his knee. 

“This is Teddy, my godson. He’s Remus Lupin’s son, do you mind holding him for a bit? I should check that Mr Weasley’s alright.”

Snape nodded vaguely as Potter palmed the child off on him. 

“He’s an Metamorphmagus, so don’t drop him if he changes while you’re holding him.” Potter said with a smile before leaving him alone.

The mewling brat opened it’s eyes and looked straight up at him. For a second the child had green eyes, but then they darkened. The little face morphed into an infantile version of his own. The poor mite didn’t know it was far better off sticking to Potter’s features. 

Merlin, he had hated Lupin. He had probably been the most despicable of the Marauders. Black and James Potter had been pureblood tossers who thought that they were better than everyone else. Lupin knew that wasn’t true, but he was too weak and cowardly to stand up and say anything when his friends became bullies. Lupin had had principles, but he’d abandoned them out of fear of being rejected.

“Ooh, he likes you!” Potter said delightedly, the little bastard could be very sneaky sometimes. Snape hadn’t even heard him come back into the parlour.

“George is teasing Mr Weasley for asking you too many questions,” Potter said as he plonked back down next to Snape. This time, their thighs brushed together, “I think George really likes you. I haven’t seen him this animated all holiday.”

Potter smiled, but it was rather strained. Potter was jealous! Potter was just as capable of being jealous as he was!

“Hes not really my type,” Snape said dismissively. He opened his mouth to say something disparaging about the man’s appearance, but he couldn’t. The child in his arms gurgled. 

He would never have found the one-eared Weasley attractive, but, perhaps others might, if he had two ears. Snape felt a twinge of something uncomfortable in his stomach. He wasn’t responsible for the man’s lack of ear. His older self was. Except, he had invented Sectumsempra. He’d known it was bordering on Dark, but he hadn’t cared. He’d even thought about using it on people. He’d wanted it to hurt, to hurt others as much as he was hurt. The only thing that had stayed his hand was the fact that there was no cure to the cuts. He’d been worried that he might get in trouble if he used Sectumsempra in school, but now he was confronted with someone who was permanently damaged because of it and he felt something uncomfortably like shame. Snape hated it. There had to be some way to stop feeling like this. 

Potter hadn’t noticed any change in him. He just looked relieved. 

“Come on, give Teddy to me and I’ll give him to Fleur to look after. I have something for you upstairs.”

Potter took the child and Snape followed him back to the kitchen. Snape paused on the threshold as Potter went in search of Fleur, hanging back he saw that Granger had arrived. The muggleborn smiled and waved at him from across the room, which Snape returned with a nod of the head. The one-eared Weasley winked at him and Snape felt another wave of responsibility for the man’s deformity. 

Finally, Potter returned to him and led him up the rickety stairs. The bedroom Snape found himself in was a complete eyesore, almost entirely papered in bright orange posters for some Quidditch team. 

“This is Ron’s room, we’re sharing for the holiday.”

Weasley was sharing a room with Potter! Snape wanted to scream. Had Weasley seen Potter naked? Did he touch Potter? Did they lie in their beds and talk late in to the night, sharing confidences? Potter touched his arm hesitantly.

“Ron and I are just friends. We’ve been sharing a dorm since we were eleven,” Potter laughed and Snape smiled back at him. Of course he had nothing to worry about. The two boys had been friends for years, they saw each other more like brothers than possible sexual partners. Plus Weasley was painfully straight, in some sort of relationship with Granger and far too ugly for Potter. 

“It’s very...orange,” 

“Yeah, Ron loves the Cannons,” and just like that Potter had forgiven him his moment of jealousy. It was almost too easy. Potter bent down, reaching under the bed so that his arse was pointed directly at Snape. Today’s jeans were baggier than usual and they slipped down to reveal the top of his underwear as he bent over. Snape’s hand twitched, he wondered what it would feel like to run his fingertip along that stretch of exposed underwear. 

“I got you two presents, but one was kind of yours already,” Potter said, standing up and depositing the two parcels on the bed. Potter had wrapped his presents by hand, the Spell-O-Tape wound completely around both presents. 

“Open this one first,” Potter pushed the larger parcel towards him. Snape bent awkwardly over the bed as he ripped at the tape and paper. It would be easier if he sat down, but that seemed unimaginable. He couldn’t just sit on _Potter’s_ bed.

Finally, he got through the tape and managed to pulled off the wrapping paper. Underneath was a powerful looking, goblin made sword. 

“Is that the Sword of Gryffindor?” Snape asked, shocked. He had had no expectations about what Potter would give him as a Christmas present, would have been happy to receive anything, but this was frankly bizarre. 

“No, well, yes. It’s a replica. Your older self had it made so that he could keep the original and give it to me to destroy the, er, things. Anyway, the goblins gave it to me. They said it was a travesty for wizards to try and copy goblin art and they didn’t want it and, technically, it’s probably yours.”

Snape picked it up admiringly. It was beautiful, rubies sparkled on the handle and the metal shone as if it were real silver. Didn’t Potter see the irony in giving him the very symbol of Gryffindor? It was almost wrong to give a Slytherin, who spent his life hidden in the dungeons, who had once been Head of Slytherin, this sword. 

“Thank you,” Snape ran his fingers along the blade. Even though it was a replica, it must still be worth a small fortune and Potter had just given it to him, without even caring about the money. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like it, and it’s yours anyway, really -”

“No, it’s beautiful. Thank you for giving it back.”

Potter blushed prettily and pushed the second present towards him. This present was covered in slightly less tape and Snape managed to pull off the paper more easily. It was a book, _Magical Advances of the Last Fifteen Years._ Snape almost gasped, this was the perfect book for him. If he’d thought of it, he would have bought this for himself. 

“I wanted to get you something about what’s changed in the last twenty years, but this was all I could find.”

“It’s…” Snape trailed off and bit the inside of his cheek. He wouldn’t say anything embarrassing. There was a lump in his throat but he swallowed it painfully. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the empty phial he found there and pushed it towards Potter. 

“This is for you. It’s not…” bugger, he hadn’t thought this through and so, once again, he was going to be found lacking. “It’s not finished yet, that's why there’s nothing in it. But it’s my second Guild potion. It’s an Eye Sight Restoring Potion. It’s pretty much done, but I wanted to run some more tests on it before I gave it to anyone.”

Potter clutched at the empty phial, squeezing so tightly that Snape was sure the glass would have shattered if it hadn’t been spelled imperturbable. 

“You’re making a Guild potion for _me?_ ” Potter’s voice shook. “I..That’s...No-one’s ever…”

“Harry! Snape! Mum says - “ Ron Weasley burst into the room, “I _told_ her you were just giving him those presents! Dinner’s nearly ready!”

“Ron! Look what Snape got me.”

Weasley scowled and peered at the empty phial. 

“A potions phial, for all the potions you make, Harry? Well, that’ll be useful,” Weasley grinned nastily. 

“I intend to fill the phial, when I have finished inventing the Eye Sight Restoring Potion.” 

“Oh,” Weasley looked vaguely impressed despite himself, but then he sneered, “Why? Do you think Harry looks too much like his Dad so you’re trying to change him?”

“No!” Snape turned to Potter imploringly, “At its best the potion won’t be permanent, it will only last a year or so. It’s Potter’s choice if he wants to use it or not, I simply thought drinking a potion was more convenient than wearing glasses all the time,” Snape gulped unhappily, he did not want to say this, and especially not in front of Weasley, “Potter already looks very different from his father. He’s -” Snape paused, unsure how to continue. 

“Boys! Dinner!” Mrs Weasley shouted up to them. Snape closed his mouth.

Weasley turned and ran down the stairs with Potter not far behind him. Snape took a moment to miniaturise Potter’s presents and put them in his pocket. They were too precious to leave up here unattended.

* * *

The kitchen table had been magically extended, but it was still cramped. Snape reached for more mashed potatoes, his arm twisting to avoid elbowing the one eared Weasley who was sitting next to him. Potter pressed himself against Snape’s other side and Ginny Weasley glared unhappily down the table. 

The food was delicious and no-one expected him to make conversation so he could relax and eat in peace while he listened and enjoyed the feel of Potter next to him. Snape amused himself by listening in and deducing things about these people’s lives. Charlie really did work with dragons and had no romantic attachments, something which his mother despaired of. Fleur was a quarter Veela and Potter paid her no attention, unless she was holding on to his godson. Bill had been attacked by an unchanged werewolf and now worked for Gringott’s in a desk job that bored him but he liked as it enabled him to stay in England. His wife was probably pregnant, Fleur had refused wine and butterbeer with her meal, although as they had yet to tell the rest of the family it was probably still very early on in the pregnancy. Granger, while smitten with Ron, was annoyed by his lack of intellectual curiosity. Ginny had all but given up on Potter as her attempts to rouse his jealousy by talking loudly about some other boy fell on deaf ears; even her family seemed a little weary of it. 

After they had eaten, everyone piled into the parlour. Quite a few Weasleys were clutching at their stomachs as if they’d eaten too much. Even Snape, who usually barely picked at his food felt pleasantly replete and sleepy, but Potter stopped him from following the others. 

“Do you want to see the orchard? There’s only a little snow and it might be nice to get some fresh air?”

“Alright,” Snape agreed. The loud screeches of Celestina Warbeck could be heard coming from the parlour. Sweet Merlin, people were still listening to her? Even twenty years ago she’d been old. 

“Did you have a good time?” Potter asked as he closed the front door behind them. Snape tightened his cloak around him even though it wasn’t particularly cold.

“Yes, the Weasley’s are very generous. It was kind of them to let me come.”

“Yeah, they’ve always made me feel welcome here,” Potter said as he led them down a path towards a small apple orchard. The thin layer of snow on the ground crackled as they walked, there was still just enough light that Snape could see clearly but the snow glistened in the twilight. It struck Snape how right his older self had been about Potter. The Weasleys had shown Potter a view of a homelife, of a family, and here he was. The Saviour of the Wizarding World crammed into a tiny house when he could be anywhere he wanted. Potter didn’t see their poverty or their faults, he saw a home and he wanted to be part of it. 

Snape reached out and took Potter’s hand. His smaller hand clasped back, interlacing their fingers. 

“I can’t believe you’re making an Eye Sight Restoring Potion. I thought they were supposed to be incredibly difficult.”

Snape smiled bitterly. 

“I haven’t actually made it yet.”

“Yeah, but that’s still amazing. Do you know what you’re going to invent for your third potion?”

After eating an entire meal in close proximity to the scar on the side of the one eared Weasley’s head, Snape didn’t even hesitate before voicing his idea. 

“Something to cure wounds caused by Sectumsempra.”

Potter threw himself, arms outstretched, at Snape, sending him flailing to the ground and flattening him. Snape’s back hit the ground with a thud, but he didn’t pay attention to that; Potter was lying on top of him, wriggling around as if his purpose in life was to give Snape an erection. 

“Really?” Potter gasped, his face only centimetres away from Snape’s, “You don’t have to! It’s not your fault, but George is so self-conscious about that. It would mean the world to him if you could find a way to heal him. It’s not,” Potter stilled and started to sit up, “It’s not because you like him, right?”

“Potter, you moron. Of course not,” Snape grabbed onto Potter’s arm to stop him moving further away. But Potter had already stopped moving away. His gaze dropped down to Snape’s mouth and Potter licked his lips, his little red tongue leaving a trail of glistening saliva. Potter leaned down slowly, as if he were scared Snape was going to push him away. His lips brushed against Snape’s with the lightest of touches.

Snape tried to control himself, but he couldn’t; he’d never kissed anyone before and yet here was the boy he wanted most in the world, kissing him. Snape’s mouth fell open as he let out a small moan of desire. Potter’s tongue licked tentatively at his lips, asking for permission to go further. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed more. Snape put his arms around Potter, clinging tightly to him, and then he rolled them over so that Potter was beneath him. Pulling back slightly, he saw that Potter was looking up at him with a smile, his eyes slightly glazed. 

Dipping his head, he kissed Potter again. This time he wasn’t shy; Potter had allowed this and Snape was going to make sure that he took full advantage of this opportunity. He pushed his tongue into Potter’s mouth, the small boy opening up for him immediately. It felt so good, he could feel the desire coursing through him. 

Snape pulled back to see Potter’s face again. He didn’t think this was a trick or a prank, but he had to make sure. Potter’s eyes were closed, his lips slightly swollen and, as Snape moved away, Potter lifted his head as if he trying to kiss Snape again.

At any other time Snape would have smirked, it would have been satisfying to see James Potter’s son so desperate for him. Right now, though, he didn’t have time to relish in such thoughts. He pushed his face into Potter’s neck, sucking and biting at the soft flesh there. He wanted to mark Potter, so that everyone would know that this had happened. That Potter fancied Snivellus and he’d let him do this to him. 

Potter let out a small whimper and turned his head away, exposing more of his neck. There was a red mark where Snape bitten him, it was already darkening and Snape knew it would bruise. He had done that, but now he didn’t feel proud. He felt like a monster. All he’d wanted was to kiss Potter, but instead he’d damaged him. 

Snape pushed himself to his feet as Potter opened his eyes and gazed up at him in shock. He had to go, all the things he’d been trying to hide from Potter were threatening to overwhelm him. His jealousy, his possessiveness and his desire to own. Potter was too delicate, if he knew what Snape was really like he’d slip through his fingers, just like Lily had. 

“I’m sorry,” Snape muttered, and Apparated away.


	17. Chapter 17

He knew he should have stayed in the lab for the rest of the holiday. His lab was his sanctuary, despite even the blasted potion he was making reminding him of Potter. Instead, he’d ventured out for Boxing Day lunch and McGonagall had somehow finagled him into accepting an invitation to tea in her office. He should be up there soon but he was so behind. He’d only made one potion the night before, and that had been a Bruise Salve. He wouldn’t see Potter for another week and a half, and by then the bruise he’d given him would have healed, but making the salve had made him feel better. Less guilty. 

Was this how his older self had felt? Subsumed by guilt for twenty years? Because Snape hated it after less than a day. 

Behind him, the lab door swung open, the old hinges creaking angrily at being treated so roughly. Snape jumped. He was the only person in the castle who used this lab. 

A very angry looking Harry Potter came storming into the lab. Snape straightened his back so he stood at his full height, glaring down at the boy. Just because he was in the wrong did not mean he would let Potter attack him. He drew his dark robe around him, as if the extra layer of material were an extra layer of protection against Potter. 

“There you are!” Potter yelled, his wand wasn’t out as he marched towards Snape. Surely Potter didn’t expect him to brawl like some muggle! “Why the hell did you just disappear like that yesterday?”

Snape frowned angrily, ready to match Potter’s anger, but then he saw the bruise on Potter’s neck. It was even bigger than Snape had assumed it would be. Overnight it had darkened. Potter must be in pain every time he moved his neck. He grabbed the jar of Bruise Salve he’d made for Potter and thrust it at the boy, who flinched back as if he thought that Snape was about to hit him.

Finally, after seconds of silence, Potter took the jar. Snape turned away. He did not want to watch Potter leave, as he surely would now. 

“I...Is this Bruise Salve?” Snape nodded, still without turning. “For my neck? Is that why you left?”

Snape turned round in a flurry of robes. How dare Potter ask so many questions. Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d been given a chance with the boy he fancied and had blown it so completely. Must he stand here and analyse his mistakes as well? It was too humiliating, it was insupportable. 

“What are you doing here, Potter? Did you come for an apology? Very well, I’m sorry. Now leave!”

“Look, if you’re apologising for leaving yesterday, then you should be saying that to the Weasleys. But...Alright, so everyone thinks I’m the Chosen One and that I must have some great magic, and you and me know that’s not true, but I’m still strong enough to say no when I don’t like something. Ok, so we kissed, and it was a little rough, but if I didn’t like it I would have said something, I would have done something. I’m not some damsel in distress. 

“If you don’t want me, then say that. But I liked the way you kissed me. I want you to do it again. That’s my choice, and you don’t get to decide that for me. So...” Potter’s voice suddenly changed from angry yelling to worried muttering, “So, the only question is whether you want me, or not.”

Snape was moving towards him before he’d even thought about it. Then he was kissing him again, their mouths pushed together as he pressed Potter back until the boy was against the wall and Snape could force his tongue into the boy’s mouth. This was what Potter had said he wanted. He didn’t have to feel guilty for this, for wanting so greedily. He moaned softly as Potter’s hot tongue caressed his. 

“Harry!” a voice yelled out. Potter’s whole body tensed and Snape pulled his head back slowly, not relinquishing his place as his body pinned Potter against the wall. Looking round he saw the Weasley boy coming towards them, his face twisted in anger. 

Potter pushed Snape off with a strength he hadn’t realised Potter had.

“What the hell are you doing?” Weasley yelled, as Potter jumped away from Snape. 

Snape’s hand went automatically to his pocket to touch his wand, just in case Weasley started anything. He forced himself to let the wand go and take his hand out of his pocket. Potter would defend him, he was too much of the hero not to; but if he defended himself from Weasley then Potter might blame him. It would be better, would bring him closer to Potter if he were the innocent victim of Weasley’s anger. 

“You said you were just going to be friends with him! Which was disgusting, but I didn’t say anything - ” Weasley screamed, his face flushing red and clashing horribly with his hair.

“What?!?” Potter yelled back, his anger flaring quickly, “you couldn’t talk about anything else for weeks!”

“Because he’s a greasy git and I don’t understand how you can just forget the way he treated you, the way he treated _us_ for years!”

“What you mean, when he was risking his life as a spy for the Order?”

“He didn’t know You-Know - Voldemort was coming back when he first met you, and he still treated you like crap.”

Snape stood up a little straighter, he had no idea how his older self would have felt when initially confronted by a young Potter. He doubted he would have been happy to have to teach him. Potter let a long sigh and seemed to deflate. 

“Ron, its complicated. There was always a risk that Voldemort would return and he was being watched by all the Slytherins, they would have reported back to their parents if he hadn’t appeared to hate me. But, that wasn’t him. He doesn’t remember any of that stuff, you can’t judge him on things he doesn’t even remember doing,” Potter said tiredly, as if he’d said these same words multiple times before. 

Weasley shook his head disbelievingly. 

“The Harry I knew would never kiss Snape,” Weasley said sadly before turning his back and leaving the lab, the door swinging shut behind him. 

Potter yelled after him, but Weasley didn’t return. 

Snape hesitated. Potter had chosen him over his best friend. Was he about to realise that was too heavy a price a pay, and leave Snape alone? Faltering slightly, unsure of his welcome, he put an arm around Potter’s shoulders. The result was instant. Potter melted into him, hugging him and clinging on as tightly as he could. 

Snape resisted the urge to smile. This was perfect. Potter didn’t need friends like that awful Weasley, who only wanted to stop Potter spending time with him. Snape twisted his lips as he realised what he had to do. It was almost physically painful, but if he wanted to keep Potter with him then he would have to do it. 

He had made this same mistake with Lily, he had never understood why she needed other friends. Why his friendship couldn’t be enough. He could not do that again, which meant he had to fix the rift between Potter and Weasley. Or at least, appear to try and fix the rift. 

He rested his head on top of Potter’s, enjoying the luxury of Potter letting him be this close, letting him hold him so possessively. 

“He’ll calm down.” Snape said quietly as he rubbed Potter’s back. The shorter boy was stiff and Snape would have said he was uncomfortable, but Potter was still clinging to him. 

Potter sighed and rubbed his cheek against Snape’s shoulder. 

“You don’t understand. In my fourth year he got so angry he didn’t talk to me for months, and,” he paused and looked around furtively to check they were still alone in the lab. “When we were searching for Hor - you-know-whats, he left. It was only because Dumbledore had left him a special device that he was able to find us again.”

Snape pulled Potter back into an embrace. He had never really been in a situation like this before, he should be offering words of comfort, but he wasn’t sure how to do that. The only example of a happy couple he had ever witnessed had been Mr and Mrs Evans, Potter’s own grandparents. Even then, he rarely saw them interact, he just knew that their home had a sense of safety that he had never felt anywhere else. That was what he wanted with Potter. 

“Weasley is your best friend, and soon he will remember quite how lucky he is to have you. ”

Potter burst out laughing, Snape would have felt humiliated but Potter leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek before he could say anything. He spoke of Weasley’s luck but, really, it was him that was lucky. The luckiest person in the world. For some reason, Potter wanted him and he intended to hold onto him for as long as he could. 

Potter pulled away and Snape’s arms were suddenly empty. 

“I should get back. We were only popping in because Hermione said she wanted to get a book out of the library.”

Snape grimaced. He would not have time to study this holiday, as his potions were taking up all of his time. Granger would undoubtedly be far ahead of him by the start of term.

“I’m supposed to go to McGonagall’s office for tea,” Snape said sullenly. If the old witch would just let him be then he might have had a few more minutes with Potter. The boy smiled at him, it was so blinding and Snape had no idea what he had done to warrant it.

“Let’s go up together then,” Potter said as he slipped his hand into Snape’s and led them out of the lab. He held onto him until finally they had to part; Potter for the library and Snape for McGonagall’s office. “I guess, I’ll see you next term.” Potter said quietly, his hand slipping from Snape’s grasp. The boy reached up and pressed their lips together. More of a peck than a kiss, but Snape rather liked it. It was a gesture born of familiarity rather than lust and Snape found himself wanting more as he watched Potter’s retreating form as he walked down the corridor and around a corner.

* * *

“I was surprised that you chose not to play on the Slytherin Quidditch team,” McGonagall said, taking another sip of tea. Snape shrugged, he wasn’t really sure what he was doing here. McGonagall had admitted that she and his older self hadn’t been friends, but she still insisted on trying to befriend him. 

“I don’t really care for Quidditch,” Snape said. His older self must have been obsessed with it because everyone assumed he was too. 

McGonagall hummed disapprovingly.

“Professor Slughorn informs me that you are working on your second Guild potion. What are you inventing?”

Snape paused, his tea cup halfway to his mouth. There wasn’t any harm in telling her. She wasn’t a potioneer, she couldn’t steal his idea. It just went against the grain to be so open and exposed. She was the ultimate Gryffindor. But then, Potter was a Gryffindor and he trusted him. 

“An Eye Sight Restoring Potion,” Snape said grumpily. When McGonagall raised a surprised eyebrow at him, he found himself continuing. There was no-one his age to talk to about potions, and he definitely didn’t trust Slughorn not to steal his ideas. “I’m using a modified Abersmyth base, similar to the Lense Liquefying Elixir, however…” Snape paused. It would be nice to tell someone what he was spending so many hours a day doing and McGonagall looked neither bored nor surprised that he was telling her. “However, my fluxweed is stewed in pig vitreous humour. I know that it sounds overly simplistic but…”

By the time Snape had finished his second cup of tea, he’d told McGonagall about all three of his Guild potions. He’d listened as she told him about her own time studying Transfiguration. It was an odd feeling, to just talk to someone. There hadn’t been anything gained for either of them, but it was surprisingly pleasant, to simply pass time with someone with no other agenda. Perhaps he was just spending too much time around Gryffindors. As he headed back down to the dungeons he thought he might like to spend another afternoon, just chatting with the old Headmistress.

* * *

The rest of the holiday passed in a blur. He saw in the New Year by finally finishing his potion. He’d give it to Potter once the Guild had approved of it. Usually, at this time of year, he would be excited for his upcoming birthday. Not because he expected presents or a celebration, but because the older he was, the closer he was to being an adult wizard, free of his Muggle father and able to do magic wherever he pleased. Now he was seventeen already, and his birthday felt like it had only happened a few months ago. 

In the past, he had hated the beginning of term. The castle was practically his over the holidays, but once the other students returned he had to share it. Now though, he was eager to see Potter and longed for the start of term. However, the first day back came and he hardly saw the boy. He’d only seen Potter in the corridor and although the boy had smiled at him, it was not enough. Finally it was time for Potions, which meant he would be next to Potter.

Naturally, Potter was late. 

Snape was already setting up his desk by the time Potter arrived, five minutes after his sidekicks. Weasley glared at the two of them and Snape restrained his smile. As long as Weasley was angry with him it showed that Potter had chosen Snape over Weasley. A doubt he hadn’t even realised he still had calmed itself and he pushed the cutting board along the desk to Potter. 

“Slughorn says we can work in pairs for this one.”

Potter grinned and leaned so close that Snape was worried he might try and kiss him. Surely they couldn’t do that in class? Potter dropped his bag onto the chair and pulled away.

“Hello to you, too,” Potter joked. “What do you need me to do?”

“Mince those, while I macerate these.”

It was hard to decide whether this was the best Potions class, or the worst. Granger’s hair was frazzled and her shrieks as she yelled at her idiotic boyfriend to stir more carefully echoed around the room. Potter did not prove to be a much better partner; he chopped rather than minced; he blended rather than stirred. It was probably going to be one of the worst potions Snape had ever made. 

However, the class gave Snape ample opportunity to instruct Potter. He stood behind him, a knife clasped in Potter’s small hand, and Snape’s larger hand over his and he showed Potter exactly how he should mince things. It was unbearably erotic, Potter’s body pressed back against him. And, when Snape felt himself harden, Potter, the tease, rubbed his tight little arse backwards. 

Snape wasn’t sure what he would have done if Slughorn hadn’t coughed just at that moment. The fat walrus peering into their cauldron with a mischievous smile.

“Boys, I do hope you’re concentrating on your potion, hmm?” 

“Er, yes, sir,” Potter said, stepping away from him and blushing furiously. Snape scowled. He’d always hated Slughorn. 

The rest of the class was torture. He wanted to touch Potter again so badly, but every time he looked round, Slughorn seemed to be staring at them. By the time the lesson was finished, Snape was ready to explode. He gave a sample of the potion to Sluggy, grabbed his bag and Potter’s wrist and strode from the room trailing a grinning Potter. The first cupboard he came across he wrenched open and pulled Potter in, securing the door with a locking charm. 

Potter looked delighted, even as he was squashed against the wall. A shelf dug into Snape’s back uncomfortably but Potter opened his mouth, more in the mood to talk than snog. Well, if Potter wanted to talk then he’d answer Snape’s question first.

“Where have you been all day?”

“I know, it’s ridiculous. I’ve spent more time talking to Ron about you being my boyfriend than actually with you.”

“Boyfriend,” Snape gasped. Of course it was what he had hoped for, longed for. But to hear the magic word come dripping from Potter’s mouth so easily, so calmly. Beautiful Potter, who everyone wanted, was just calmly saying that he wanted Snape. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, we are going out, aren’t we?” Potter gazed up at him, his lovely eyes clouding with doubt. “Did you not want -”

“No!” He had to stop the boy from saying anything else. This moment was perfect, just as it was. He bent down and quickly pressed his lips against Potter’s mouth before pulling away so he could look Potter in the eye. “We’re going out.”

Snape kissed him again, but this time Potter opened his mouth. So exposed and willing. His boyfriend. Snape groaned as he pushed his tongue into Potter and rubbed himself against the length of Potter’s body. The boy was already hard and Snape yearned. If the boy was his then surely he could do whatever he wanted to Potter? He pulled back and looked at Potter’s little face, his eyes pressed shut as he waited for Snape to kiss him again. He wouldn’t, he wanted to see more, to do more. 

Snape hesitated. James Potter would have loved to see him on his knees, and yet here he was contemplating kneeling before the man’s son. He ran a hand down Potter’s body and clutched onto the jut of the boy’s pelvis. His body was so different from his father’s, lithe and thin; beautiful where his father had been plain. 

He lowered himself to his knees and undid Potter’s trousers. Potter’s cock was already hard and straining against his baggy underwear, like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Snape carefully lowered his underpants and stared. He’d never been this close to someone else’s cock before. 

_”Snape,”_ Potter whispered, half shocked and half urging him to do more than just look. Snape hushed him, he wanted to take his time properly. 

Potter’s cock didn’t look like he had expected it to, he had thought it would be almost identical to his own. But it was decidedly different. It was smaller and thinner. The head an angry red and the foreskin hadn’t retracted, even though Potter was hard and leaking precome. 

“Snape!” Potter whispered more forcefully. 

It was, Snape decided, a very nice cock. One that he could probably fit entirely into his mouth. He leaned forward, burying his nose in the junction between Potter’s thigh and his crotch, and sniffed. There was a scent here that was uniquely Potter and Snape couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way of bottling that scent, of carrying it around with him. 

Potter’s cock bobbed in time to his heart beat, but Snape still didn’t touch it. Instead he cupped Potter’s balls in his hand, feeling the weight of them and measuring the size. Just like his cock, Potter’s balls were smaller than his; Snape smiled into Potter’s dark pubic hair. He rather liked the difference in their sizes. Finally, having decided that he had looked enough for now, Snape leaned up and took Potter’s cock between his lips. Before Potter could react, he swallowed the whole thing into his mouth. 

_“SNAPE!”_ Potter yelled above him. 

Potter fit perfectly. Snape felt the head pushed against the back of his throat, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He pulled back and looked up at Potter’s face. Potter was staring down at him a wild expression of complete adoration on his face. Snape smirked around the cock in his mouth and sucked. He heard a loud gasp and Potter’s whole body went taut, his back arching against the wall and his cock pushing back into Snape’s mouth. He was doing this to Potter, the boy was on the edge already and it was because of Severus Snape. 

He bobbed his head once, twice but on the third time Potter grabbed hold of his hair. Snape stilled, intending to throw off Potter’s hands, but the boy’s cock was twitching in his mouth and then Snape’s mouth was filling with liquid. Potter had come in his mouth! Without even a word of warning! Snape pulled back slowly, catching all of Potter’s come more from a desire to be neat than an urge to taste the stuff. 

Once Potter was out of his mouth, Snape could taste the spunk properly. It was bitter but not unpleasant.

Potter was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily and looking like some sort of magical creature, his hair wild and his porcelain cheeks stained red. Snape stood and kissed him, pushing his mouth against Potter’s and, as soon as the boy parted his lips, Snape forced the spunk in his mouth past the boy’s lips. He had meant it as revenge for Potter not warning him that he was about to come, but the boy moaned loudly and wrapped his arms around Snape’s neck, sucking at his mouth and trying to get more of the taste of his own seed. 

Potter groaned again, his tight little body rubbing against Snape’s clothed cock. He’d been hard for so very long and seeing Potter like this was impossible. He pushed Potter back against the wall and thrust his hips against him. Potter’s large green eyes stared up at him, beautiful and his. No-one else should ever see Potter like this. Potter would be his, just his. 

Snape thrust again and came in his trousers with a groan. Potter’s arms slipped off his neck and down to his waist, he was still clinging on but this felt more like a hug than anything sexual. He panted into Potter’s hair and let himself enjoy it. Potter had come in his mouth, he had no reason to be embarrassed just because he’d come in his pants. 

Potter gave an awkward cough and wiggled as if he were trying to get out of Snape’s embrace. 

“Sorry,” Potter muttered quietly. 

“Don’t be,” Snape said softly into his boyfriend’s hair. He should be rushing off to his Apparition class, but his body felt so relaxed, he just wanted to stay here, with Potter in his arms, for a little longer.

* * *

“Mr Snape, you’re very late,” Twycross, the Ministry lackey, called out in a disinterested voice, more like he was taking note of the weather than reprimanding him. Some of the other students giggled, but Snape was still too relaxed to be angry. He could still taste Potter in his mouth.

“Deliberation,” Twycross started to drone and Snape tried to concentrate.


	18. Chapter 18

Apparition, while useful, made him feel sick. The nausea was worth it though, he had apparated five feet on his first attempt. It was dinner time, and despite his lack of hunger, he headed for the Great Hall. He might see his boyfriend there. 

He’d only just sat down at the Slytherin table when Potter sidled over to him, carrying an apple and obviously hesitant to join him. A whisper spread down the table as the Slytherins muttered to themselves. Potter ignored them and cleared his throat quietly. 

“Sit down, Potter,” Snape said, aware of almost every eye in the Great Hall on them. Lily had been told off once, for sitting with him at the Slytherin table, but Slughorn didn’t look like he was going to come over this time. 

A subdued Potter sat down next to him. Snape frowned. Why was Potter sad? Did he not want to be boyfriends anymore? They had only definitely been going out a few hours, he couldn’t have blown it already. He had to keep Potter if not completely happy, then at least happier than this. He knocked Potter’s knee with his own under the table. 

“Were you serious about learning Legilimency?” Potter asked, seeming suddenly less tense. 

“Of course, we just need to find a room to practise in.”

“I know the perfect place,” Potter smiled at him before biting into his apple. He’d done that, he’d made Potter smile and it had been easy. He smirked victoriously at the Gryffindor table. The sidekicks weren’t there and the ginger slut was talking to a boy who had his arm wrapped round her waist. No-one had noticed his victory, but that didn’t make it any less sweet. “Are you free after dinner?”

Potter’s eye shone hopefully. Really, he should be getting on with his studies; Granger had given a better answer than him today in Ancient Runes. He had almost not been the first student in the class to successfully translate the poem that Professor Babbling had assigned them. If Lovegood hadn’t been there, Granger might have beaten him. 

But he could hardly refuse Potter. 

“Yes, let’s go now. I’m not hungry anyway.”

They stood and Potter didn’t hesitate to take hold of his hand. Snape thought he heard a few gasps from some of the students but when he looked around no-one made eye contact with him. 

Wherever Potter was taking them, it was a long climb. A few students stopped on the stairs as they passed, staring at their joined hands, but no-one said anything or made any rude remarks. Potter remained as oblivious as ever to the attention they were attracting. 

Finally, he lead them down a deserted corridor. Although Potter had seemed to know where he had been leading them, he released Snape’s hand and wandered up and down the corridor as if he were searching for a room. It reminded Snape of how, when Lily and he had been young they would sneak off to the park and search for hiding places amongst the trees. Those had been the happiest times of Snape’s life, until now.

“Right, here we go. The Room of Requirement!” With a flourish, Potter pulled open a door that Snape was sure hadn’t been there a minute ago. It looked as if the door had opened up inside a forest; grass was growing where the floorboards should be and, glancing up, Snape saw a blue, summery sky. “I...This isn’t what I was thinking about...I’ve never...The room provides whatever you need, whatever you’re thinking about while you walk around outside. But I wasn’t thinking about this. I’ve never seen it do anything like this before.”

Everything in here felt amazingly real, the bark on the trees and the blades of grass. He’d known that Hogwarts was capable of amazing feats of magic, but this was something else. The question was, did this place really exist? Was it a magical construct or had the room transported them somewhere else?

“Snape? What were you thinking about when we were outside?” Potter asked, sitting down on the grass and leaning back against a tree. “Do you recognise this place?”

Snape hesitated. Potter had initially thought that he’d had some sort of romantic entanglement with Lily. Was it wise to mention her now? He shrugged. 

“It’s a little like the park where Lily and I would go as children.”

“Oh,” Potter threw his finished apple core away from him. “What was she like?”

Snape settled down on the grass next to Potter. 

“She was…” Potter’s wide eyes were staring at him, hanging on to his every word. It reminded him of how Lily had looked up at him with such fascination when they were younger, before they got their Hogwart letters, and he would tell her things about the Wizarding World. He hesitated. Snape couldn’t remember a single other thing about Lily, not when Potter was looking at him so intently. He swallowed noisily. “She was my friend. My parents wouldn’t send me to a muggle school and my mother disapproved of me consorting with the neighbourhood children. She… was vivacious and headstrong. Everyone wanted to be her friend, but she wasn’t arrogant. She cared more about Tuney not liking her than -” Snape cut himself off. He’d been going to mention James Potter’s ridiculous crush on her, but that was hardly politic. 

“Aunt Petunia,” Potter mused, shuffling a little closer but not quite touching him. “I used to think that once I grew up I’d never see them again, but now I’m not so sure. I sent the Dursleys a Christmas card, and I got one back. No present, but I wasn’t expecting anything. I look at the Weasleys and how easy it is for them, they all love each other and they’re a family no matter what. Even when one of them behaves like a complete prat, they don’t mind. Well, they do, but they forgive, you know? I think that’s half the reason I liked Ginny so much. I liked the idea of marrying into that, of being surrounded by people that love you no matter what.”

Snape snorted and shifted so that their shoulders touched. Did people usually talk about their exes so fondly? He wished he could put a Taboo on the blasted girl’s name, but that would be giving her too much power. Instead, he let Potter continue.

“Do you know what I really want? It sounds so stupid, but I’ve always wanted to have a family. Before I heard the prophecy, I used to daydream of living in a house in the country and having lots of kids. I think that was another reason I liked Ginny so much, well, the idea of Ginny.” Potter broke off a piece of grass and threw it away from himself. The blade didn’t go far before it began to fall. 

Snape struggled to keep his face even and hide his feelings, Potter was by his side and couldn’t see him properly but he had to control himself. He hated that ginger tart so much, just the thought that she had had her hands on his Potter, that she had tasted his lips before he had, made him want to scream in rage. The only thing that tempered his anger was his own victorious glee. She would never touch him again. Even after Potter broke up with him, going by his reaction to a female Veela, Potter would never take a female lover. Nevertheless, he did not want to hear about why Potter had liked Ginny Weasley so much. Potter sighed wistfully by his side and leaned into Snape, as if somehow he had been waiting for Snape’s permission.

“We could have had children. Thing is, now I know I’m gay, I’m never going to have kids. I know I could adopt, and I will. It’s just...it’s stupid, because I’d love to give a child a home and I’d be so much better at it than the _Dursleys_ were.”

Potter picked another handful of grass distractedly. Snape licked his lips, thinking rapidly; he had to phrase this carefully.

“Potter, you moron, how can you know so little about being a wizard? It’s perfectly possible for wizards to become pregnant. It just requires a potion.”

“What?!” Potter snapped his head around and stared at him, dumbstruck.

“Indeed, Lucius Malfoy was conceived and carried to term by a man. The Fructuvir Elixir has been around for hundreds of years.”

“You mean,” Potter said faintly, “I could get pregnant and have my own children?”

Snape nodded, this was the delicate part. He had to phrase this carefully because, even though he’d never thought about having children, he couldn’t bear the thought of Potter going to anyone else. Perhaps this was what his older self had meant when he’d said that he could bind Potter to him with a family. 

“As long as you have someone to make the potion for you. It is rather complicated.”

Potter gasped and put a hand on Snape’s arms, gripping tightly with his small hand. 

“But you’d make it for me, wouldn’t you?”

Snape grinned. Potter wouldn’t understand that he’d just asked Snape to father his children, but it was still an exhilarating feeling and his rage against the ginger harlot was forgotten. Of course, he'd tell Potter the truth if the boy ever actually wanted the Elixir, but in the meantime it felt so good to hear Potter talk like this.

“Anytime, Harry.” Potter made a sudden jerky movement, but Snape started talking again before Potter could react properly. “Now, Legilimency. All you have to do is aim your wand and say the incantation. The skill comes with being able to navigate through the other person’s mind. Today, I doubt that we’ll be able to see much beyond what we saw or thought about in the last few hours.”

Twisting round, he saw the almighty grin that was splitting Potter’s face. It was simply irresistible. Snape kissed him gently on the lips. He only meant it be a chaste kiss, but Potter was so eager, so open and inviting that his tongue slipped in and claimed Potter’s mouth before Snape realised what he was doing. Potter pulled back slowly.

“Thank you,” his voice was so breathless and happy but, when Snape leaned in for another kiss, he moved away with a cheeky grin. “I really do want to learn Legilimency with you, it would be so cool to be able to talk privately when we’re sitting across the Great Hall from one another.”

Snape sat back on his heels, feeling annoyed. Of course, this was the one time that Potter wanted to study.

“I’ll go first,” Potter said, picking up his wand and pointing it straight at Snape. For a second, Snape flinched back as a sudden memory of Potter’s father aiming his wand at him assailed him. _”Legilimens.”_

And then he couldn’t see Potter and he wasn’t sitting in the Room of Requirement but instead he was back in front of Twycross and he was trying to Apparate, concentrating completely on appearing inside his little hoop until finally he could feel himself move. The magic was all around him; squeezing and pressing into him so he couldn’t breath and his eyes were watering as his nose felt like it was being punched. Then, just as before, the magic stopped and he was in his hoop, but this time Potter was there too. He didn’t have time to say anything because the memory was changing, and this time he was walking along the corridor and he caught a glimpse of Potter in the distance. Just like this morning, he wasn’t sure if he should run after the boy or not, but when he turned Potter was beside him in the hallway, smiling at him. And then, suddenly, something seemed to fall and he was alone, left with nothing but an intangible sense of loss and emptiness. He opened his eyes and found himself back in the Room of Requirement. 

“That was amazing!” Potter beamed, “But it’s very tiring. Here, you give it a go.”

Nodding to himself, and happy that Potter hadn’t commented on anything he’d seen inside Snape’s head, Snape picked up his wand.

_”Legilimens!”_

This felt much better. His mind rushed towards Potter and it was so simple, everything was laid out so neatly. He saw the world through Potter’s eyes and he felt his emotions. In this memory he was bitterly disappointed and in the distance he saw himself, Snape, walking quickly away from him. Granger turned to him and smiled gently, in a way that Snape had never seen before. 

“I don’t think he saw you,” she said quietly so that Weasley couldn’t hear. Then the scene changed and Snape had no control over it. He wanted to go back and see what else had happened but it was impossible. Now they were in the Gryffindor Common Room, or at least what Snape assumed was the Gryffindor Common Room, there was certainly enough red and gold everywhere. 

“No, I knew. Right from the beginning,” the Weasley slut was standing right in front of him. Snape flared with anger and the scene wavered erratically but continued to play out. “I think that’s why I was so angry, but I’d like to be friends.”

Potter’s answer was garbled and he couldn’t hear it properly. He want to scream at her, how dare she get so close to Potter. Weasley started speaking again.

“Yeah, he’s a good man. I miss you - “

Snape couldn’t control his anger any more and the scene shattered before him and he was forced out of Potter’s head. As soon as he landed back in his own body he felt exhausted. Legilimency must use an extreme amount of magical energy. Potter yawned widely, so that Snape could see his little pink tongue, delicate and sweet. 

“You talked to Ginny,” Snape said through clenched teeth, but Potter just smiled tiredly.

“Yeah, it was nice. I don’t know if we’ll ever be as close as we were, but she’s not as angry as she used to be.” Potter’s words were slightly slurred and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. 

“You wish to be _as close as you used to be_ with her?”

“What?” Potter yawned again, “Not like that. Aren’t you tired? Let’s have a little nap before we try that again.” Potter had barely finished talking before he fell forward, his head landing in Snape’s lap. He was tired, but he also wanted to shake the boy awake and demand answers. Potter snored and Snape felt his resolve waver. He would question Potter later, right now he was content to fall asleep with Potter. 

“Snape?” someone whispered as Snape woke up, suddenly alert and disoriented. This wasn’t the Slytherin dungeon, why was he sleeping outside? It was night, but the sky above his head was lit brightly by the moon. Was it a full moon? Fear gripped him. Lupin would be out tonight. He had to get back inside. He made to stand, but the comforting warmth that had been blanketing his legs gave a yell and fell to the ground. Potter. Potter had been asleep on his lap and they were in the Room of Requirement, inside Hogwarts and safe from werewolves. 

“Snape? Are you alright?”

He nodded his head jerkily. It was humiliating to be so afraid but he couldn’t stop his fingers from shaking. Potter cast a _Tempus_ spell and he saw that it was only eight o’clock. Nevertheless, he had an urge to get away from this Room, where he had been so embarrassingly afraid. 

“We should go. Come, Potter.” Snape said, proud that his voice sounded imperious and not at all panicked. Potter followed as he marched into the school corridor and shut the magical door with an echoing slam. 

“We have to do that again!” Potter said, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. It was enough to make Snape smile despite his embarrassment. Did Potter want to sleep with him again, or share minds with him again? Either way, it was the sort of deeply personal thing that boyfriends should do together.

* * *

_Romance Blossoms for War Heroes!_

_Sources close to Harry Potter reveal his secret love for Severus Snape!_

_”They can’t stop touching each other, they’re always holding hands!” a student at Hogwarts School revealed today. We all hope that Mr Potter has finally found love, but all may not be as it seems. “Snape’s been dousing him with love potions, everyone knows Harry and Ginny are meant -_

Snape balled the paper up and set fire to it with a flick of his wand. Beside him Burbage let out a surprised scream and threw her glass of pumpkin juice onto the flaming newspaper. The juice just missed him but soaked his breakfast. His toast was ruined. 

“Oh! Sorry, Severus. I thought you were in danger.”

Snape snorted and pushed his plate away. 

“It is true though, isn’t it?”

“That I’m giving Potter love potions?” Snape sneered. If even she believed that rumour then everyone else would definitely believe it. What if Potter read this and thought the same thing? Ironically, if he had been feeding Potter love potions, the boy wouldn’t have the wherewithal to suspect anything. Burbage giggled and he felt his anger drain away.

“No, are you two going out?” Burbage asked with a look of profound respect on her face. Snape nodded irritably. This would only give more fuel to the gossips, although Snape didn’t really mind. As long as everyone knew Potter was his. “Wow. What’s he like? Will you introduce me? Wilbur waved at him once in the corridor, but then ran away, so we don’t know if Harry actually waved back.”

“He probably did,” Snape said with a sigh.

* * *

“Snape,” Potter hissed at him from an alcove as Snape left the Great Hall. So this was why he hadn’t seen Potter at dinner. He’d finally received a letter from the Guild that morning, telling him that they had finished testing his formula and they had accepted his second potion. That meant it was safe to use on Potter. He had been going to give it to him later, but he rather liked this feeling as he let Potter drag him into the alcove, his little hands ruffling Snape’s robes. If anyone else had done that Snape would have been furious, but this was Potter, and he rather enjoyed the way Potter felt comfortable enough to touch him like this. Potter, he had noticed, rarely touched anyone, even the sidekicks

“Happy Birthday!” Potter whispered and then pulled him down into an eager kiss. Snape held him close, not letting Potter move away. Every kiss he got from Potter was a gift, a treasure, and he was far too selfish to not take advantage. He pushed his tongue into Potter’s mouth and felt the vibrations of the boy’s lewd moan. Snape only released him when he started to feel light headed from lack of oxygen. 

Potter, with glazed eyes and swollen lips, gasped a lungful of air and gave him an accusatory glare. Had he finally pushed Potter too far? Surely that had been no more forceful than the other things he’d done to Potter?

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday? McGonagall just told me! I haven’t even got you a birthday present!”

Snape smirked.

“You can’t think of anything I want?”

Potter’s eyes widened in surprise and his innocent grin turned wicked. 

“Well, you could push me against a wall if you like?”

Snape almost released him in surprise. He hadn’t expected Potter to notice what had quickly become his own personal fetish. Really, he should stop this. They were in public. Students were walking within a few feet of them, and if anyone looked in here they would be able to see the two of them snogging. He cast a quick Notice-Me-Not spell, but the spell itself would be a beacon to anyone who was looking out for magical signatures. But Potter was right there and no man could possibly say no to such temptation. He pushed Potter against the wall; the alcove was so small he barely had to push him at all. 

“Wish me a happy birthday in Parseltongue,” Snape whispered into the boy’s ear. It was a risk, to expose his weakness like this, to let Potter know the power he had over him. Potter didn’t even seem to realise though, he didn’t look smug and self-satisfied. He just looked a little confused and then with a shrug and a glance at Snape’s snake pin, he began to hiss.

Fuck, this was even more erotic than it had been that night at Slughorn’s party. Now that he’d kissed those lips, now he knew what they tasted like; now those hissing lips were his boyfriend’s lips. Snape crushed his mouth against Potter’s. He didn’t want the Parseltongue to stop, but he needed to be closer, needed to feel Potter under him. 

He pushed his leg in between Potter’s thighs, forcing the boy to open his legs, to yield. Snape’s hard cock rubbed against Potter and he felt an answering hardness rubbing against his thigh. They should be doing this somewhere else, somewhere he could strip Potter and see his beautiful cock, finally unwrap the rest of his beguiling body. 

Potter clung to him, gasping and panting out more Parseltongue into his ear, the increasingly urgent hisses making Snape thrust harder. He was so close and Potter’s hisses were sounding more and more like moans. Suddenly the boy stiffened and yelled something that was part Parseltongue hiss and yet also a mangled version of his name. Potter had come in his pants, just from rubbing against him. 

Snape opened his mouth to yell his own completion, but Potter’s neck was just there. The skin so soft and silky and his to mark. He bit down hard and thrust one last time as he came, overwhelmed and surrounded by his beautiful boyfriend. 

Potter whimpered quietly as Snape came to his senses, his eyes blinking and his mouth tasting of blood. He’d bitten Potter and he’d drawn blood. He was as much of a monster as his father had been. But, when he pulled back to look at Potter, the boy’s irrepressible grin was firmly in place. 

“Happy birthday, next time we’ll celebrate the second of August because, I suppose, technically, that is your birthday now, right?”

Snape nodded dumbly. He’d been planning for the future, for binding Potter to him for as long as possible, but this was brilliant! Potter assumed they would be together for at least the next eight months.

“Come to the Potions lab, I have something for you.”

“I can’t. I’ve got detention with Filch...I’m already late.”

Snape curled his lip in dismay and spelled his trousers clean.

“Oi, what about me?”

Snape grinned wickedly, he’d happily cast spells over Potter’s delightful body all day long. He healed the bite on the boy’s neck, but left him standing in his damp pants.

“That depends. What did you do to get detention?” his voice was teasing, but it was an unsavoury reminder of how little he knew about Potter’s life away from him. 

“Oh, it was that article in the Prophet. I guess most of Gryffindor didn’t know we were dating and there was a bit of a fight in the Common Room.”

“I suppose they were all telling you to get rid of me.”

“No..Actually, no. Some people have been really nice about it. Especially people whose lives you, your older self, saved last year. Anyway, I got pretty annoyed that who I date was a matter of public debate, and...Well, Vector gave me quite a few detentions. I’m not going to have a free evening for ages...Sorry..” Potter trailed off as if he expected Snape to be angry with him for getting detentions for defending their relationship. 

“What time will you finish tonight?”

“Probably after curfew, I’m not sure what Filch is going to make me do.”

“Come down anyway, after curfew. I don’t leave the lab until midnight. I want to give you your Christmas present.”

Potter blinked up at him, surprise and another emotion that Snape couldn’t identify flittered across his face and were gone. 

“Alright. I really have to go. I’ll probably get another detention for being this late. I’ll see you tonight, after curfew!” and with that Potter was gone, speeding away, out of the alcove and down the hallway. He hoped Potter remembered to clean his trousers.

* * *

It wasn’t much past midnight, but Potter still hadn’t shown up. Not that he cared. Not that he had spent the last four hours thinking about who Potter was serving his detention with. He would not let his jealousy control him. 

He gave his potion a gentle stir, but the handle slipped through his fingers and crashed heavily against the bottom of the cauldron. It was ruined. He had had the most brilliant idea for his third Guild potion. All he had to do was make a potion that would chant the cure to Sectumsempra. It should be easy, he only had to make a potion that could record sound and repeat those sounds when applied to a wound. The problem was that such a potion appeared to need to be brewed in complete silence. Even the sound of the stirring rod touching the cauldron was too much noise. 

He levitated the cauldron of useless potion up and over to the sink. There was no point staying here if Potter wasn’t coming, he might as well pack up. The door to the lab opened by itself, but there was no-one standing in the doorway. 

Suddenly, Potter’s head appeared! Just floating in the middle of the room! Snape pivoted round, his wand pointing straight at Potter’s head as the caudron fell with a loud bang into the sink. 

“It’s me! Calm down!” Potter yelled, throwing off an invisibility cloak so that the rest of his body was suddenly visible. Snape cringed. The spoiled potion had landed in the sink and hadn’t made a mess, but that didn’t excuse Potter scaring him like that. 

“I’m quite calm, I hardly expected you to have an invisibility cloak,” Snape hesitated as he approached Potter. Should he kiss him? They were boyfriends now. Surely that was his right? He bent and planted a chaste kiss on the boy’s cheek. Potter froze but didn’t pull away. He laid a hand gently on Potter’s chest, but what he felt there made him pull back. “This isn’t Demiguise hair.”

“Huh?” Potter blinked vapidly, his eyes following Snape’s lips flatteringly. 

“Your cloak isn’t made of Demiguise hair.”

“No...This was my Dad’s cloak.” Snape felt the cloak between his fingers. Potter had told him months ago about the Hallows, but in his explanation he had brushed over the Cloak and the Resurrection Stone, focusing on the Dark Lord’s quest to find the Death Stick. The cloak slipped between his fingertips like expensive silk; it was exquisite. It was also what had enabled James Potter to make his life a living hell. He angrily thrust the cloak back into Potter’s arms and strode to the cabinet to retrieve the phial of Eye Sight Restoring Potion. He would not let James bloody Potter be a blight on his life for one second longer. 

“This is for you,” Snape handed a phial of golden liquid to a nervous looking Potter who had trailed after him. 

“So, I should just drink this? And then I won’t need glasses anymore?”

“Not entirely. It won’t fix them permanently, but it should last a year.”

“But you’ll make it for me again, won’t you?” Potter asked guilelessly. His easy assumption that they would still be together in a year’s time was just as startling as his earlier comment about them celebrating Snape’s next birthday together. 

“Of course. This is a gift, but you don’t have to drink it. If you think I made it for you so you would look less like your father, then don’t. You…” Snape paused, embarrassed and unsure of himself. How could any words express how perfect Potter was? The ugliness of James Potter somehow reflected into something so beautiful that it almost took his breath away just to look at him. “You don’t need...You look... It just might be more convenient not to have to wear spectacles, and it may give you some anonymity, once you rid yourself of your trademark.”

Potter smirked but didn’t answer. He uncorked the phial and gulped down the potion in one swallow. He smirked at Snape again, but when he opened his mouth to say something all that came out was a loud scream. Potter fell to his knees, clamping his hands to eyes. His piercing scream of agony going through Snape like a banshee’s wail. He sunk down and tried to prise Potter’s hands from his face. He couldn’t understand what had gone wrong, this potion had been tested and approved by the Guild. It should work. 

Finally, Potter ran out of air and was silent.

Snape’s arm was wrapped around Potter and he didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to face his boyfriend after causing him so much pain. 

“Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting!” Potter said lightly, jokingly, as if Snape hadn’t just forced him to drink something that had sent him into agony. “Hey, everything’s blurry!”

“Take your glasses off,” Snape said gruffly, cutting himself off before he called Potter a fool. He had hurt Potter enough already this evening. 

“Oh God! This is amazing! I can see perfectly! Hey, why do you look so pale? What’s wrong? The potion worked! It’s brilliant!”

How could Potter not care that he had just hurt him? Snape’s insides burnt with shame and guilt and he could barely bring himself to look up at the boy. Without his glasses, Potter’s large eyes were even more obvious; they shone as brightly green as any woodland nymph’s. He hadn’t thought it possible to make Potter any more beautiful, but here he was. 

“Are you still in pain?”

Potter’s face softened and his body relaxed under Snape’s arm. 

“No. It was fine, it only hurt for a second, and I only screamed because I wasn’t expecting it. It wasn’t that bad.”

Snape nodded wearily. Potter was lying to make him feel better. It was such a ridiculously Gryffindor thing to do. 

“Here,” Potter continued, “Let me show you how much I like my present.” With that, he leaned up and kissed Snape full on the lips, his little tongue caressing Snape’s lower lip and begging for entrance. And who was Severus Snape to deny Harry Potter?


	19. Chapter 19

The new term seemed to send the teachers into a frenzy of doling out homework and Snape found he barely had time to continue with his Potion experiments, let alone see Potter. By the second week of term his homework was piling up and took up most of his weekend. Occasionally Snape would find a few minutes to snog Potter in a cupboard off a deserted corridor, but as Potter was also serving a seemingly endless number of detentions, they never quite had the time to do anything more than kiss. It was infuriating. Sometimes, sitting in class, he’d suddenly recall the way Potter’s crotch had its own distinctive musk, or the heady feeling of having his mouth filled with Potter’s cock. He’d harden instantly in the middle of listening to a teacher explain the wand movement of some spell or other. It was not conducive to studying, but Snape couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Finally, after the longest week of Snape’s life, it was Saturday afternoon and they were back in the magical forest of the Room of Requirement; but somehow, now that Potter was right in front of him, he didn’t want to do anything but listen to his boyfriend speak. He wanted to know every thought in his head just as much as he wanted to examine every inch of his skin. Everything about Potter was endlessly fascinating. 

“I don’t know.” Potter sighed and rested his head down onto Snape’s lap. He was, Snape had noted with delight, becoming more and more tactile, each little touch was precious and to be cherished. “I keep on thinking about all the things I could do, become an Auror, or a professional quidditch player, or I could make brooms, or wands. But then, I don’t know, it just all seems like..well, like it’s just meaningless. I mean, Voldemort’s dead and all these people died because of him and this stupid war, and now I should just...find a job?

“Everyone that died left behind so much, so many people that will miss them. And that’s what’s important in life. But then, maybe it’s my duty to become an Auror, there are still Death Eaters out there. What if one of them attacked you, and I had done nothing to stop them? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself...What about you? What are you going to do after Hogwarts?”

Snape shrugged, his right hand was so close to Potter’s hair and he longed to run his fingers through it. To stroke him and tame those wild locks. 

“I’m not sure yet. I thought about opening my own apothecary. My older self left the funds for me to buy my own place, although it would have to be in Hogsmeade rather than London or York.”

“Oh, yeah? You liked my idea, then?” Potter grinned cheekily up at him, and his fingers smoothed their way into Potter’s hair without his control. The boy didn’t seem to mind though, his grin didn’t fade and he almost seemed to lean into it, like a cat being petted. “I do...I like you..Sometimes, when we’re apart I worry that I won’t have anything to say, that you’ll think I’m stupid if I say the wrong thing, but then when we’re together, it’s like being with you is the most natural thing in the world.” Potter stretched out and yawned, giving even more of an impression of being a cat. 

“I like you, too,” Snape said very quietly, but Potter must have heard because his smile widened. 

“Good. I know we’re supposed to be practising Legilimency but it’s so tiring and I’m already exhausted. Let’s do it later.”

Snape scowled half-heartedly. He didn’t really care if they studied or not.

“Hmm, I can hardly return to the Slytherin Common Room yet.”

“Oh, how come?” Potter asked, closing his eyes lazily. Without his glasses, Potter’s long eyelashes fluttered prettily. 

“Malfoy’s there and I’d rather avoid him.”

Potter sat up quickly, pouting. 

“Why? I thought you said you were going to give him a chance. Look, I know he’s a git, in fact I know that better than anyone. But he isn’t his father. He didn’t do anything to you and, and he really needs a friend. I’ve tried, but…”

Snape looked at him incredulously. 

“You want me to go and befriend Malfoy, _now?_ ”

Potter shrugged, although what he wanted was obvious. He wished he could just shake Potter and make him understand that just because he had no wish to see that smug Malfoy smile ever again did not mean that he was judging Potter by his own resemblance to his father. Snape sighed unhappily and stood up, preparing to leave. 

“Well, aren’t you coming?”

“Nah, he won’t relax with me there, and anyway, I rather like it here. It’s like our own private wood.”

Snape snorted. He couldn’t imagine doing this for anyone else, but if it made Potter happy he would be nice to Lucius’ son.

Malfoy was still sitting in the Common Room, exactly where he had been when Snape had slunk past him earlier. He was slumped awkwardly over one of the armchairs in front of the fire. Was the man incapable of sitting in a chair properly? Snape gave a small cough and sat down in the chair next to Draco’s, struggling to think of anything to say, any topic of common ground that wouldn’t remind him of Lucius. 

“Are you taking NEWT Potions?” Snape asked quietly. Draco turned sharply and looked Snape full in the face for a few, long seconds. 

“Yeah, Slughorn’s rubbish though,” Malfoy finally said with a grin. The easy acceptance of Snape’s overture was surprising. Snape had suspected that a Malfoy would be too proud to accept the friendship of someone who had previously rejected him. 

“You preferred Professor Snape?” he asked. Draco sighed and turned back to stare at the fire. 

“Yeah, he was great,” Draco muttered, still staring intently at the fire. Snape hesitated, unsure of himself. Surely he had done enough to appease Potter?

“If you wish, you may write to me about any Potions queries you have,” Snape said, almost despite himself. What did he care if the spoiled heir to the Malfoy millions felt a bit lonely?

Draco turned back to him, a grin spread wide across his face. Snape interrupted him before he could say anything cloying. 

“And if I have any spare time, I shall reply. Although, as I am studying for both my NEWTs and my Masters, I can hardly guarantee a fast response.”

Malfoy looked like he was about to leap out of his chair and hug Snape. He crossed his arms in front of his chest to forestall him. 

“Thanks, Snape,” Malfoy’s voice was slightly higher than usual, “You should come to the Manor sometime. Father once said that you always enjoyed using the library.”

Snape shivered. Not so long ago he would have done anything to get his hands on some of the Dark Arts books he knew Lucius owned. Yet now, access was being offered freely; all he had to do was give this lonely boy some help with his Potions homework. 

“You know,” Malfoy began, glancing at him nervously. ”Slughorn’s lessons were always so disorganised compared to Professor Snape’s.”

Snape smiled triumphantly, he’d always known that there was a better way to teach Potions. Draco relaxed into his chair and launched into a diatribe against the old Slug. Snape settled back and listened with pleasure. It was almost interesting enough to stop Snape from begrudging Malfoy some of his precious free time that he could be spending with Potter.

* * *

Snape reached out for the jar of beetle’s wings from the stack of ingredients that he and Potter were sharing without turning his attention away from his cauldron. His fingers brushed against Potter’s warm hand. It was intoxicating to be so close to him, but not be allowed to touch him or kiss him or even really talk to him. 

“Do you want to meet up, after class?” Potter whispered, his fingers still lingering on Snape’s hand. He grunted and glanced at Granger. There was no way that he would let her brew a better potion than him, the very idea was preposterous. She was a mediocre potioneer, at best. But her boyfriend didn’t try to talk to him at the most delicate potion-making stages. In fact, they didn’t talk at all during Potions.

“Apparition lesson,” Snape said brusquely. 

“Room of Requirement, afterwards?” Potter answered back quickly. Snape nodded and turned his attention back to adding in the beetle’s wings in the right formation. His concentration stayed on his cauldron for the rest of the lesson and, although Potter waved goodbye to him at the end of the lesson, they didn’t speak again until after Snape’s Apparition lesson had finished and he found Potter sitting on the floor of the seventh floor corridor, waiting for him. The room itself opened to show the same forest as ever.

“Merlin, it feels like its been ages since we were last here. You look really good when you brew, very intense. It always makes me want to …” Potter trailed off but then dived up to kiss him on the lips. Snape immediately took advantage and pushed him back against a large oak tree. It wasn’t possible that Potter desired this as much as he did. There was no way he felt this same, all-consuming lust. 

“I want to see you, all of you,” Snape panted into his ear. 

Potter stilled, tensing up under him. 

“I’m not really...I mean, I didn’t get a lot of food last year, erm, so…”

Snape pulled back, but the expression on Potter’s face was one of embarrassment rather than refusal. It was inconceivable that someone so perfect should have any worries or uncertainties about their body. 

“Strip.”

Potter’s hand automatically began to undo his uniform, before he stopped himself and looked pointedly at Snape. 

“Strip,” Snape repeated, “ And I shall, too.”

It was such a measly promise, so much gained for so little given, but it seemed to mollify Potter who happily continued to take off his clothes. He only paused when Snape himself hesitated to undress. His body was not as beautiful as Potter’s, nor as muscular as so many others in their year. Added to that was the fact that it was incredibly difficult to concentrate on doing anything beyond watching avidly as Potter’s skin was slowly revealed.

Potter was ridiculously thin. By comparison Snape felt positively muscular. In the past he had tried not to care that he would never have the strapping muscles of a Quidditch player, he wasn’t a muggle; he didn’t _need_ muscles when he had a wand. Next to Potter, though, he felt manfully well-built. Potter’s flattering glances made him feel even better, and, when his erection was finally freed, Potter looked torn between astonishment and worry.

For all his jealousy, for all the friends that took Potter’s attention away from him, Snape knew that no-one else had ever seen him like this. Potter trusted no-one else with this part of him. 

He practically dragged Potter down onto the grassy, forest floor. There was so much skin to touch, so much to explore. The hollow at the bottom of Potter’s sternum, the small, wiry muscles of his shoulders and the way his whole body jumped when Snape brushed his nipples. Before he could finish his explorations, however, Potter pushed him back.

“I want to see you too. I’ve been thinking about what you did to me, in that cupboard, and I was wondering if you wanted me to do that to you too?”

Snape nodded mutely. He’d been fantasising about Potter sucking him for so long. He let Potter push him back, too overwhelmed to care that he was ceding control. A hot tongue lapped at his cock, tiny touches that made Snape want to thrust up and take Potter’s mouth. He tried to keep still, but it was tortuous; a blissful agony. 

He almost screamed when Potter took the head into his mouth and sucked, The kitten licks continued, even as Potter took more and more of his cock into his mouth. 

“Look at me,” Snape gasped. Potter’s startled face looked up at him. His eyes glistened wetly and Snape’s cock stood heavily between two swollen lips. Maintaining eye contact, Potter slowly lowered his head, taking more and more of Snape in. It was mesmerising. 

Potter’s hand bumped steadily against his lower leg. Potter was so turned on by sucking him that he was wanking. It was too much, Snape lifted his hips and thrust into Potter’s mouth, again and again until he could feel his come pour onto that teasing tongue and down Potter’s tight throat. 

“Let me..” Snape panted, stopping as Potter shook his head.

“I...Already.” Potter muttered. He’d come while blowing Snape. The very idea was so arousing that Snape felt himself hardening again. He needed Potter, as close as possible. He pulled him up into a hug, but Potter managed to burrow away, so that his head rested on Snape’s chest. A little hand reached down towards his crotch, but instead of grabbing hold of his cock, Snape felt small fingers carding through his pubic hair. It was the strangest sensation, as if he were an animal that needed to be soothed. 

Snape ran a hand down Potter’s spine, his nails scratching lightly at the skin. Potter instantly stopped his petting and Snape missed it at once. He reached down, wordlessly, and put Potter’s hand back into his pubes. When Potter started to stroke him again, Snape found himself doing the impossible and relaxing even more. 

“You want to study Legilimency now?” Potter asked, not lifting his head from Snape’s chest. He sighed deeply, he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite as content as he did right now; no-one could ever be happier than he was right now. He never wanted to move again. 

“Not yet.”


	20. Chapter 20

Snape sat down to breakfast warily. Around him everyone was smiling far too happily, even the staff were grinning widely. Both Flitwick and McGonagall caught his eye and both seemed even more delighted when he responded with a blank scowl.

When he sat down in his usual seat he found there was a small bundle of red envelopes on top of his plate. Today was Valentine’s Day. He’d entirely forgotten. It was hardly surprising, when that date had always been so meaningless to him in the past. Luckily, he was one of the first students there, none of the First Years were there yet. Which was for the best, judging by the scrawl on the front of the envelopes. In fact, he must have got one from almost every First Year. He shoved the bundle into his book bag and looked round for Potter. Would Potter expect something from him? He didn’t have anything planned. Grabbing an orange, he stood and almost ran from the Great Hall. He had to think of something for Potter, but he had no idea what Potter’s expectations were. 

He was so lost in thought, he bumped into someone as he left the Great Hall. Before he could snarl a warning at them, he realised it was Potter himself. 

“Hi. Happy Valentine’s, I guess.” Potter said awkwardly. 

“Happy Valentine’s,” Snape echoed. 

“So, I haven’t actually got you anything. I just, well I guess I kind of forgot the date and then I was wondering -,” Snape struggled to keep his face impassive, but this was such a relief and Potter must have been able to sense that. He laughed weakly. 

“You forgot too?” Potter asked with a smile and Snape nodded curtly. “I think that means we’re equal then.”

He was too much of a Slytherin to let Potter off so easily. 

“I’m not sure it’s that simple. Just because we both forgot the date, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t exchange gifts. I may not want pieces of coloured paper making a mess of my breakfast, but can you think of anything I do want?”

Potter didn’t answer, but pulled him into the same alcove that they’d used at the start of term, pushing Snape against the stone wall. It was not a particularly pleasant feeling, and Potter looked uncomfortable. Snape pushed him away, so that he fell back against the opposite wall and instantly Potter looked happier. Their tastes fit so perfectly together. 

“Harry?” a male voice called out. If someone was looking for Potter then they would only have to walk a few more steps and they would see them both, tucked into this alcove. Potter froze and Snape released him, stepping back. It must have been Weasley’s voice, Potter wouldn’t have reacted like this if it were anyone else. 

“In here, Ron,” Potter called out, stepping out of the alcove. Snape followed a few seconds later. Weasley’s face was bright red and he refused to look at either of them. If Snape hadn’t known better he would have thought Weasley was embarrassed, rather than angry. 

“I..was worried we were going to be late for class. But I guess I’ll see you there.”

“No,” Potter smiled tentatively. “Let’s go to class. I’ll see you later, alright Snape?”

Potter squeezed his arm and was gone. The urge to grab him and refuse to let him leave with that nasty, gangly boy was there, but the feeling was easy to subdue. Potter was so obvious in his affections. He would return to Snape. Surely.

Later, that evening, when Potter came and found him in the Potions lab, that last niggling doubt was finally laid to rest. Of course, Potter had come back to him; he had said that he would. As he pumped his cock into Potter’s eager mouth, he’d never felt more powerful.

* * *

Time was passing too quickly. There was too much homework; his Guild potion, which he had initially thought would be the simplest to invent, had him stumped. Even Potter had begun to study, which meant that Snape would see him in the library and could grab him for a quick snog between the book shelves. Once he even blew Potter in the Restricted Section, his knees aching on the old floorboards and Potter’s come in his mouth. He’d made the boy swallow it though; pushed him back against a shelf of Necromancy books and forced his come into his mouth. Potter had accepted it eagerly, greedily even; his arms slipping around Snape’s neck as if hugging him were the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

He’d become used to sleeping alone in the dormitory. He certainly didn’t miss Mulciber’s snoring. But tonight something was different and for some reason he was far more aware of how alone he was than he had ever been before. Not even Caracalla’s gentle snores from somewhere near his feet, nor the swishing, watery noises of the lake against his window, made him feel better. Now that he knew what it was like to fall asleep next to Potter, to wake up with the boy cradled in his arms, how could he sleep alone again? He wished Potter was here with him right now. His porcelain skin would glow beautifully in the green light, whereas Snape’s pale skin only looked more pallid in this light. 

Tomorrow there was a Potions class and Potter would sit next to him again. Snape smiled to himself in the dark, he could hardly wait. 

What he wanted, what he really wanted was to fuck Potter. Usually his fantasies didn’t get more advanced than imagining attractive men, sometimes sucking him or thinking about their arses. But Potter was different. He wanted to get inside him, to claim him for his own. His boyfriend. Just the word was enough to make him hard. Tomorrow evening he’d make some lube. He wouldn’t say anything to Potter. They hadn’t been going out that long, and he couldn’t act too hastily, couldn’t scare the boy off. But tomorrow he’d research the best lube, because Potter deserved only the best. 

Now he was painfully hard, and more awake than he had been before. Snape groaned and reached down for a leisurely wank remembering what Potter felt like when he filled his mouth so perfectly or the hungry moans Potter made as he lapped his come from Snape’s mouth.


	21. Chapter 21

“Ah Severus, do you have a minute?” Sluggy’s cheerful voice grated on his nerves as he handed the old man a sample of that lesson’s potion and watched Potter hesitating in the Potions classroom doorway over Slughorn’s shoulder. 

“Of course, sir,” Snape answered, his eyes on Potter as the boy’s face fell before he left the classroom. 

“I can’t tell you how happy I was to hear a certain rumour the other day, Severus.” Snape frowned slightly in confusion and Sluggy leant forward conspiratorially, “An old man like myself is always delighted to hear about young love, especially when it’s between two wizarding heroes, and one a Slytherin, too! Just wonderful! Of course I saw the headline in the Prophet but I didn’t believe it until now. And you know, I do like to think that I had a hand in this budding romance, after all I did invite you both to my start of year soirée, and I have been turning a blind-eye to the odd bit of cross house fraternisation at meals.”

Snape spluttered inarticulately. Surely, Sluggy didn’t want to talk about Potter! 

“So, young Severus, I couldn’t help but think about how alone you are in the Slytherin Common Room, being the only NEWT student. And I wanted to let you know that if you wanted to show young Harry the dungeons, well, that would probably be a good idea.”

Snape blushed. Slughorn couldn’t be suggesting what he thought he was, because it sounded a lot like he was giving him permission to break school rules and bring a Gryffindor into his dorm. Was Sluggy giving him permission to have sex in the Slytherin dorm? Snape blushed even more and took a step backwards. 

“I’ve always been a big supporter of young love, the tallest towers have the deepest foundations, after all. Don’t you agree?”

“...Yes, sir,” Snape said haltingly. One day, a few years from now, Slughorn was going to call in all the favours that Snape owed him, but Snape had a sneaking suspicion that it would probably be worth it. 

Snape hurried from the classroom before Sluggy could say anything else. He wasn’t going to bother going to any more Apparition lessons, he understood how it worked now and he already had his license, which meant there wasn’t any real rush to leave the classroom. Nevertheless, he made a swift exit, avoiding Slughorn’s gaze as he gathered up his things. So, when he opened the classroom door and found Potter still there, waiting for him, it was a complete surprise. 

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if I should wait for you or not...Erm, you’ve got an Apparition class now, right?”

Potter looked so nervous, as if Snape could react to Potter’s attention in anyway other than positively. 

“No, not anymore. Come to my dorm.”

“Alright, I’ll get my invisibility cloak, so we don’t get caught.”

“That’s not necessary. Slughorn gave his permission for you to come.” 

“Oh, well, I guess that’s fine then. Let’s go.” Potter enthused as he began walking towards the stone wall that concealed the entrance to Slytherin. Potter had been so out of it the last time they’d been to the Slytherin dorms, when they had used the Apparatingkey to escape Lestrange; there was no way that he would remember the way so clearly. Potter, the little sneak, had been there before. Snape hung back, half a step behind him, and let Potter lead them both straight to the entrance. Potter was too guileless to realise what he was doing. 

“What’s the password?” he finally asked when Snape remained silent. 

“You don’t know it?” Snape feigned surprise and saw the dawning realisation on Potter’s face as he understood that he’d given himself away. 

“I, er, snuck in here once in my second year.”

“Playing pranks on Slytherins?” Snape couldn’t keep his voice even, Potter was supposed to be different from his father. 

“No! The Chamber of Secrets had been opened and I thought it was Malfoy, or that he knew something about it. We Polyjuiced into his friends to try and get some more information from him.”

“You, Weasley and Granger? And I suppose Granger made the Polyjuice? And you stole the ingredients from my older self?”

“How do you know I didn’t make the Polyjuice? And, you never know, maybe Professor Snape gave me the ingredients.”

Snape snorted derisively. 

_”Kleos,”_ Snape whispered the password, but he knew Potter could still hear him. They stepped in to the underground Common Room and Potter looked around interestedly. Obviously he had not been able to linger the last time he was here. 

“Follow me,” Snape said, grabbing his arm as a gaggle of First Years turned to look at them in astonishment. As their Prefect he usually sat with them at meals, making sure that they all ate properly and were going to all their lessons. The routine made some of them feel a sense of familiarity which could make this situation awkward. Burbage was there, her little mouth hanging open in surprise. Well, he was not there to assuage their curiosity. 

“Severus!” she called out, just as he began to drag Potter up to his dorm. “Severus, wait!”

Beside him, he felt Potter stiffen and turn round. 

“They call you Severus?” Potter whispered. Snape nearly groaned. If this meeting couldn’t be avoided then at least it could be kept brief. 

“You’re Harry Potter!” Burbage said delightedly. Somehow she had crossed the Common Room with lightning speed. The rest of the First Years were not so fast, but Snape could see them edging forwards. 

“Er..yes. What’s your name?”

“Faith Burbage. You’re Severus’ boyfriend and you killed Voldemort. He killed my mum.” 

“I’m,” Potter stammered, looking decidedly overwhelmed, “I’m very sorry.”

Burbage shrugged. 

“It wasn’t your fault. Severus said that you -”

“Thank you, Burbage.” Snape interrupted, not eager to have whatever nonsense he might have once said to Burbage repeated to Potter. The other First Years were within earshot now, and this whole conversation was going to be the stuff of Slytherin gossip for the next month. Perhaps he should have asked Potter to use his invisibility cloak. “We’d best be going. I’m sure you can talk to Potter later.”

Burbage radiated happiness and Snape silently cursed. Fortunately Potter seemed to have been distracted by her unflinching honesty and he let himself be dragged away. 

“Okay. Bye, Harry! It was nice meeting you!”

“Thanks, you too, Faith.” Potter called out, his voice almost lost under the frantic whispering as the First Years converged on Burbage and began demanding she tell them everything that Potter had said. Little idiots. 

Potter himself seemed oddly silent and only spoke again once Snape opened the door to his bedroom. 

“Ooh, I’d forgotten that you can see the lake from in here,” Potter said happily, walking round the room unselfconsciously. “And you put the sword up on the wall! It looks good like that.”

“Hmm, Caracalla likes to try and knock it down, although he’s still far too small to be able to jump that high.”

Potter laughed and sat down on the bed. His bed. Potter was sitting on _his_ bed. Not just leaning on it because he felt unwell, like last time. But the thoughtful expression on his face indicated that he hadn’t even given a second thought to his action. 

“The younger Slytherins all seem to like you. Faith was…direct”

“I believe my older self and her mother were colleagues.”

“Oh? Oh! She’s Professor Burbage’s daughter. She looks up to you, doesn’t she?”

“I suppose,” Snape said, sitting down on the bed beside Potter. For the first time, Potter seemed to realise how close they were, but he didn’t pull back. 

“That’s good. I mean, it must be difficult for her, but at least she has you. And all the First Years. You always sit near them in the Great Hall, even when you’re reading and probably want some peace and quiet. You take much more care of them than the Gryffindor Prefects did with me, when I was that young. ”

Snape snorted softly. That was hardly surprising. Gryffindor bravery did not extend to anything as mundane as keeping an eye on a group of eleven year olds. 

“You’re a good man, Severus Snape. Even if you do try and hide it.”

Snape would have snorted again and denied it, but Potter was leaning in to kiss him. Now was hardly the time to protest. He let Potter push him gently back onto the bed, before rolling them over and taking control of the kiss. 

“I,” Potter began as Snape moved to nibble at the boy’s neck, “I was wondering, erm, if you want... If you’d thought about..”

Snape drew back and eyed Potter suspiciously. He looked aroused but painfully embarrassed. 

“Are you asking me to fuck you?”

“Snape!” Potter sounded scandalised, but immediately started tearing at his own clothes, “Gods, yes!”

Snape sat up so that he could pull haphazardly at his own clothes. It was like stepping through the doorway to the Room of Requirement again, he was suddenly being transported to a magical land where his wishes came true and Potter wanted him as much as he wanted Potter. 

He’d meant to make lube this very evening. There was a small bottle with a dribble of lube left at the bottom in his bedside table. Snape cast a refilling charm on the bottle, but he knew it was inferior stuff, that Potter deserved something better, something Snape had brewed himself. 

Snape clutched the bottle of lube to his bare chest and turned to face a nervous looking Potter, lying naked across his bed. There was a moment of awkwardness, neither seeming quite sure what to do. Snape hardly dared breathe, in case Potter changed his mind. 

“Have you ever done this before? Hermione...gave me some books and I’ve, erm, tried a few things.”

“Tried a few things,” Snape repeated, unable to form a coherent thought while his imagination ran riot. 

“Yeah, like my fingers, but ” Potter said, spreading his legs. Snape didn’t think he’d ever moved so fast before in his life. He was kneeling in between Potter’s thighs in a heartbeat. 

Potter smiled up at him with so much trust in his face that Snape couldn’t stop himself from swallowing nervously. Snape looked away, down to the relative safety of looking at Potter’s cock. He massaged his balls before lifting up Potter’s bent legs so that he had a perfect view of Potter’s wrinkled hole. 

He poured lube onto his hand and ran one finger lightly over the furled skin, his touch making Potter shiver and gasp. This was all happening so quickly. Part of him wanted to slow down, to savour the moment; but he couldn't stop this, it wasn't possible. One finger pushed slowly past Potter’s rim. Snape’s finger slid in as he watched, enthralled by the sight of his own finger entering Potter’s body. It was hypnotic. He pumped in and out, almost deaf to the faint moans that Potter was making. 

“Snape, more!”

Potter’s cry cut through his trance and he pushed in a second finger, gently scissoring his fingers and stretching Potter’s tight rim. When it finally seemed loose enough, Snape rose and looked down at Potter. His face and chest were flushed to a rosy hue and his breath was coming in breathless moans as his cock leaked precome onto his stomach. He was breathtaking, laid out just for Snape. 

His cock nudged against Potter’s hole and Potter, who had seemed so passive moments before, suddenly pushed back, forcing the head of Snape’s cock into Potter’s still too tight arsehole. But now that he was inside Potter, now he knew what this felt like, he couldn’t stop. Snape pushed forward, as gently as he could without pausing. Finally, he bottomed out and his cock was fully sheathed.

“Severus!” Potter hissed in a stunned whisper, the sibilant syllables falling from his lips like Parseltongue.

It was so tight and so very, very hot. And then, sweet Merlin, it seemed to get even tighter and it felt like Potter was going to rip his cock off. In the distance he heard Potter’s yell and he realised the boy was coming, untouched, from Snape’s cock in his arse. 

It was too much, he couldn’t go on like this for long. He managed to pull out almost completely, his cock throbbing and desperate. Potter’s eyes were squeezed shut as he clung onto his knees, come had spurted all over his belly and Snape trailed his fingers through it. It took an almost super human strength to not just pound straight back into Potter, now that he knew how good he felt, how perfect. 

“Severus,” Harry whispered again and Snape’s will collapsed. He pushed back into Potter’s arse but soon, too soon, his orgasm was approaching and he couldn’t hold it off any longer. He might have yelled Potter’s name, or it might just have been an undignified scream, but he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop the inevitable. He came, pumping his come into Potter’s willing arse.

When he opened his eyes Potter was looking up at him as if he’d never seen him before. Snape lifted a hand to rub along Potter’s cheek, but the boy turned his head and sucked his fingers into his mouth. He was sucking his own come from Snape’s fingers. He’d forgotten that was there. 

He pulled out of Potter, his softening cock was still twitching and already he wanted to be back inside Potter. Now that he knew what it was like to have him, how could he ever go without again? He flopped down onto the bed beside Potter, so that only their sides touched. He felt boneless but happier than he’d ever been. He, Snivellus Snape, social pariah, had lost his virginity. More than that, he’d lost it to the most beautiful boy in the world. He pulled Potter into his arms, turning so that they lay spooned together and sighed deeply into Potter’s wild hair. He was enraptured, but with that realisation came a sudden terror. Now that he’d had this how could he ever let the boy go again? 

As if in answer to his thoughts Potter began to try and sit up, failing as Snape pinned him in place. Potter’s arse pressed back against his cock and Snape almost groaned, just knowing that his come was still inside the boy, marking him and proclaiming him to be Snape’s. 

“I’ve got to go,” Potter said, not turning to look at Snape.

“Regrets already?” Snape sneered, suddenly angry that he was going to be so quickly abandoned. The skin on Potter’s neck pebbled where his breath caressed it.

“No! You’re the one who’s always in the Potions lab. I only ever see you when you want…” the back of Potter’s neck reddened. Snape bit the flushed skin, revelling in Potter’s shocked gasp and the way his whole body stiffened and then relaxed back against him.

It was true that his studies and experiments kept him far busier than he wanted to be. He felt a pang of fear at how little progress he’d made on his Guild potion; his stomach felt a little sick just thinking about it. It would be Easter soon and then he would have to spend all his time revising in earnest for his NEWTs. He released Potter’s skin and pressed the boy further back against him so he could whisper straight into Potter’s ear.

“You could come. Sit in the lab with me, do that Transfiguration homework I know you haven’t finished. Practice making a potion of your own.”

“Yeah?” Potter suddenly pulled away and Snape let him go in surprise, but he didn’t try to stand up again, he just turned around in Snape’s arms. “I wouldn’t be in the way?”

It was so much easier, so much less embarrassing to say things to Potter when he didn’t have to look at Potter’s earnest and imploring face. 

“Not at all.”

They stood up and started to get dressed, but Snape wasn’t concentrating on putting his clothes on. Potter’s naked little body was so perfect as he moved about, each stretch showing off different muscles. As Potter pulled on his underpants, Snape thought he saw a glisten of dampness. His come was leaking out of Potter’s arse and the very idea was awful. That should stay in there, it made the world seem more complete somehow, just knowing that Potter was carrying around his come in his arse. What Potter needed, ideally, was some kind of plug that would hold the come in place. 

Half an hour later they were both in the Potions lab, Potter hunched over his essay and Snape over his cauldron. Neither of them spoke much, but every few minutes Snape would look up from his experiment, his heart swelling with happiness as he checked his boyfriend was still there. 

He sliced the Death-Cap on the cutting board in front of him, his thoughts still on Potter. He was in love with him. It wasn’t much of a realisation, love was just a word. It only described the way that he felt about Potter. He’d felt this way for so long now that merely giving it a label didn’t change anything.


	22. Chapter 22

Potter had sat with him for the last two evenings as they both worked away in the Potions lab. Aside from a bit of enthusiastic snogging, he’d barely touched for lad the last few days. He would have pushed for more, but there was a certain cautiousness to the way Potter sat down, and a stiffness when he stood up, that made Snape think he’d damaged Potter with his over-exuberance that night in the Slytherin dorm. 

He wanted to drag him back there. Not even necessarily for sex, just to hold him. To feel his skin pressed him, with Potter’s warmth heating his bed. 

“Are you coming back to Slytherin when we’re finished here?”

“Alright, just for a bit.”

Potter still felt he had to make an appearance in the Gryffindor Common Room, so he would refuse to spend the night. The boy was convinced that Vector would know if he didn’t return to his bed, in an astonishing display of respect for school rules. It was infuriating to have Potter so close and yet still lose him. One day, Snape promised himself, he’d keep Potter in his bed all through the night, and they’d wake up together, Potter caught in his arms.

* * *

Potter’s sweaty skin pressed against him, his tongue lapping at Snape’s clavicle and his fingers tangled in Snape’s long hair. Merlin, he wanted to be back inside him. Snape reached out for the fresh bottle of lube he’d brewed, but stopped himself before opening it. He really did not want to do this, but he supposed it was necessary. 

“Harry,” the boy stilled at once. Snape so rarely used his first name, “Do you..Would you prefer to penetrate me?”

Potter flinched, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of his question or the words he’d used. Potter himself was almost never so direct. 

“Do you want me to? I mean, if you like...I’m not sure, I never really thought about doing it that way. Wouldn’t you rather do what we did last time?” Potter garbled nervously, clearly thinking he was somehow offending Snape. 

“Much rather,” Snape agreed quickly, momentarily forgetting the lube as he kissed Potter soundly. Potter was so perfect, he so completely complemented Snape’s own desires. Later, as he sunk into Potter’s welcoming arse, he nearly cried in relief. He had meant to be gentler this time, but Potter was beneath him, urging him on, frantically begging him for more; faster and harder. Snape couldn’t stop himself and he came, buried deep inside his boyfriend’s tight body.

* * *

Potter snored quietly, his hands clutching tightly to the arm Snape had thrown around his waist. The dappled green light of the dungeon dorm gave Potter’s skin an unearthly, ethereal sheen. The boy was perfect, and his. It was all almost too perfect, there had to be some catch. He felt a vague sense of unease. Good things like this didn’t happen to him. There had been something. Something that someone had said once, a casual comment that he’d dismissed at the time. 

He’d been eavesdropping on Weasley and Granger, just before his first date with Potter. He’d been concentrating on the fact that he’d just learnt that Potter truly thought they were going on a date. But Granger had said something important. _But Harry doesn’t even know this Snape._

That was true, wasn’t it? When Potter defended him against Weasley’s slurs on his character, he always used the argument that his older self had been acting as a spy. Which meant that Potter felt he had to justify his older self’s character, when the only argument necessary was that Snape was not that person anymore. 

And then there was Potter himself. He had barely known Snape and yet he had fancied him, had asked him out, been interested in him, right from the beginning. Granger had been right. Potter didn’t really know who he was now. Potter was in love with his older self. It wasn’t _his_ bedside he had sat beside, patiently waiting for him to wake up from his coma. Potter had been waiting for his older self to wake up.

Snape felt himself grow cold and he shivered, despite the heat of Potter’s body pressed against him. Slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping boy, Snape pulled his arm away and got out of bed. Did it really matter if Potter didn’t really want him? As long as Potter stayed with him, then couldn’t that be enough? Perhaps, in the past, it would have been. But not any more. He wanted Potter to be as consumed by him as he was by Potter, and that wasn’t possible with the ghost of his older self between them. 

“Snape?” Potter asked sleepily. “Come back to bed. Let’s have a lie-in and get something from the Kitchens later, yeah?”

“Potter,” Snape pulled on his clothes with a heavy heart, he did not want to do this. “You should leave. In fact, I’m not sure why you even came down here in the first place.”

“Huh?” Potter sat up in bed; his hair messy, his eyes puffy and the sheets slipping down to reveal his creamy torso, littered with bite marks. “What are you talking about?”

“I am referring to the way you have consistently mistaken me for my older self. When did you fall in love with him? Did you lust after him when he was your teacher?

“No! Stop it! Look, I know you can get a bit jealous sometimes, and maybe I kind of like that, but this ridiculous. You’re jealous of yourself!”

“ _That_ is exactly my point! You are completely unable to distinguish between who I am now and the Professor who spied for Dumbledore. I may have initially mistaken you for your father, but I corrected myself within seconds; you have never seen me as my own person.”

Potter threw back the covers and angrily began to get dressed. 

“This is insane, you’re insane. I fell in love with a bloke that was capable of doing the things that Professor Snape did!”

“Do you want me,” despite his anger even Snape could hear how beseeching he sounded, how desperate for Potter to prove him wrong, “Or do you want the war hero that I have never been?”

“I know that wasn’t you, I’m not an idiot. And yeah, alright, I like knowing that you have that capacity, but that doesn’t mean that I’m confused about who you are! I can see that my boyfriend isn’t wrinkly and greasy and middle-aged!”

“No, Potter. I have already lived one lifetime, even if I don’t remember it. This time round I am not a spy, atoning for my mistakes, I want to live a quiet life. I’m going to open an apothecary, run a shop. Is that the type of man you want? A shopkeeper, hardly a hero. Do you even know who I am?”

Potter spluttered stupidly.

“Right now, no, I guess I don’t. After everything I’ve told you about what I want for the future, were you even listening at all? Come and find me when you start being rational again!”

The door slammed shut behind him as Snape realised that Potter had just told him that he loved him, but that he was, nevertheless, alone.


	23. Chapter 23

The lab door was pushed open and two sets of heavy footsteps ran into the room. Snape didn’t turn round. It wasn’t Potter. Potter would have come alone, if he came at all.

“Turn round and face us, Snape,” Weasley yelled. Snape sneered into his cauldron and finally turned to look at the two sidekicks. Granger appeared to be on the verge of tears, clutching an envelope.

“Ron, that isn’t helping. Snape...It’s, it’s Harry,” Granger sniffed loudly and Snape felt his blood run cold. Something was terribly wrong. Something had happened to Potter and he hadn’t been there to protect him. 

“Where is he?” Snape asked tightly.

“We don’t know. He got this in the post this morning, but the letter - “

“It was a Portkey!” Weasley interrupted. 

“He could have been taken anywhere! Lestrange could have done anything to him! And we don’t have any way of tracking him!” Granger cried out, twisting the envelope in her hands. 

This was ridiculous, it had been so easy for someone to rip Potter away from him. He was his boyfriend and yet he’d slipped through Snape’s fingers so easily. It was so sudden and so complete. Anything could be happening to Potter, he could even be dead already and Snape was powerless to stop it. There was nothing he could do. He was impotent and he wanted to scream with rage and frustration. He wanted to stamp his feet and smash everything until the lab was utterly destroyed, but that still wouldn’t change anything. 

“Out! Get out!” he yelled, his wand heavy in his wrist holster. 

“What?!?” Weasley shouted back, “Oh, of course, I knew it! I knew you never cared about Harry. What does it matter to you that he’s been abducted? You were only ever using him, now you’ve had your name in the newspapers, well, you’ve got to get back to your potions and it doesn’t matter if Harry lives or dies, does it?”

“Ron!” Granger gasped as she turned pale, “He’s not going to die.”

“Leave!” Snape shouted as he grabbed hold of his cooling cauldron of experimental potion. 

“Snape! We’ve got to think - “ Granger began, but Snape had no time for her. She could not be of any help. He threw the heavy cauldron at the sidekicks, but they both jumped backwards before the bulky cauldron got anywhere near them. 

“Come on, Hermione,” Weasley scowled and pulled Granger from the room, “We shouldn’t have bothered coming down here in the first place.”

The potion fizzed as it began to burn the stone floor but Snape didn’t pay it any attention. He might have been arguing with Potter, but that didn’t change anything. Potter had been ripped from him and he’d never even said good-bye. All his half formed thoughts and hopes for the future were suddenly blown away and it was so devastatingly unfair. His dream seemed to coalesce around him as he realised exactly what he had wanted. He had known he was going to buy a place in Hogsmeade, but now he saw how Potter would have been with him; a little shop that Potter and he could live above. It would have been an apothecary, him making potions while Potter managed the shop and every night they would have gone upstairs to their little home. They would have been so happy. 

Snape stopped. He had an idea. Perhaps, a home was not always a physical place. Perhaps, it was something else. Being with Potter was what would make their little apothecary feel like home, not the building itself, so maybe his home was wherever Potter was. He grabbed hold of his Apparatingkey and took a deep breath. This had to work, but he was almost scared to say the magic word. The weight of his sudden hope was so heavy. 

_”Home.”_

Instantly, he was being squeezed through the tight press of Apparition. There wasn’t even time to breathe a sigh of relief before he appeared in a darkened cell. Potter was sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall only a few feet away. The way his body was crumbled in defeat made Snape’s relief short lived. Was Potter injured?

“Potter,” Snape whispered as he strode forward and bent down to make sure the boy was alright.

“Snape? What? How did you get -” Potter began but Snape tuned him out as he looked Potter over. There weren’t any obvious injuries. Potter was fine. He’d been so worried, so scared but Potter was fine. He was suddenly angry; how could Potter have been so stupid, so reckless, as to get into this situation in the first place?

He grabbed Potter’s collar and tried to Apparate away, but something was stopping him. There must be Anti-Apparition wards up. Bollocks, he’d meant to learn how to take these down. He’d even got the book out of the library, it was sitting on his bedside table for a little bedtime reading. 

“Be quiet, you fool. Do you know where we are?”

“Godric’s Hollow. This is Witherknot’s cellar.”

“ _Witherknot?”_ Snape shook his head, there would be time for explanations later. He summoned his patronus and sent it off to McGonagall. Potter gazed with awe at the silvery doe but said nothing as the animal ran away and Snape turned his attention back to him. 

“You dolt! You irresponsible, careless fool! Why did you touch that Portkey?”

“Well, I didn’t actually know it was a Portkey. It was an accident.”

“It was reprehensible to touch a letter sent from a stranger when you know that there are still Death Eaters on the loose. Are you so desperate to read your fan mail that it was worth - “

“I’ve never been sent a Portkey before! Voldemort never sent me one and he was trying pretty hard to kill me for years, so how was I to know that someone else would?”

“Naturally, your safety is everyone else’s responsibility. Harry Potter is above such concerns! I thought you were dead!” Snape struggled to keep his voice to a quiet whisper. The tears of frustration that had threatened to fall since the sidekicks had come into the Potions lab were embarrassingly close to falling now. He blinked and tried to hold them back. 

“I,” Potter looked at him in surprise, one of his small hands cupped Snape’s cheek, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how you found me, but thank you. Thank you for coming.” 

Snape sat down heavily on the cold stone floor and pulled Potter forward into an awkward hug. Potter squirmed and wrapped his arms around him so that they were settled more comfortably. 

“Witherknot was pretty convinced he was going to kill me, he told me he was going to do it tonight, and I just kept on thinking about you and our argument. I don’t think you’re your older self. Maybe I did a bit, I mean, I can see you’re not him, but I was really...overwhelmed when I found out what he had done. How he had spied for all those years, and I...He did so much for me, and when I met you it was like I finally had a chance to show my appreciation. But I realised pretty quickly that you were your own person. Gods, I swear I never fancied Professor Snape! Not even for a second! So, can we go to how things were before, please?” Potter sounded so eager as he pulled back to look Snape full in the face. 

Snape hesitated as he remembered what he had thought about as he had used the Apparatingkey. Yes, he wanted things to return to how they had been before, but he also wanted more. 

“Move in with me. After we leave Hogwarts.” Snape spoke quickly, trying to get the words out quickly before his courage failed him. 

“What?” Potter asked, shocked. There was a loud bang above them but Potter didn’t even glance away from Snape. 

“I’m going to open an apothecary and I want you with me. To live with me,” he knew it wasn’t the best offer. Potter could have anyone, do anything but this was the only home that he could offer him. 

“Are you offering me a job?” There were more noises coming from upstairs and a loud thud as something fell over and smashed somewhere above them. Potter didn’t even flinch as he stared into Snape’s eyes. The room was too dark for him to make out Potter’s face clearly but Potter didn’t seem to be having the same problem. 

“No, well, yes. You don’t have to work in the shop if you don’t want. But I can’t afford to hire a shop assistant right away, so…” Snape broke off, he wasn’t explaining this well and he couldn’t let Potter misunderstand him, ”I want you. I want you as close as possible for as long as you let me.”

Potter’s face softened. 

“You still want me?”

“Always.”

Potter giggled obnoxiously but then leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. Snape pulled back. He would not celebrate yet, not until he had a definite answer. 

“Is that a yes?”

Potter nodded and began to talk.

“I swear, I never fancied your older self. Never. I never even thought about men bef -” but Snape couldn’t contain himself any longer; he lurched forward, smashing their lips together. Potter was his. Completely his. He pulled the smaller boy forward until he was straddling Snape’s lap. Merlin, he wanted to fuck him right here. To stake his claim on him. 

“Harry? Severus? Are you down here?” Shacklebolt’s deep voice called out. Potter jumped up and ran to the cell door. Snape stood up more slowly and followed after him. He’d have the boy as soon as they got back to Hogwarts. 

“Kingsley? We’re in here!”

The cell door swung open and Snape saw that they were indeed in someone’s cellar. Just outside the cell door were shelves stacked with wine and potion ingredients. 

“Well done, Severus! I don’t know how you managed to find him, you’ll have to tell me all about it later,” Shacklebolt boomed, leading the two of them up a flight of stairs and into the light of nicely decorated kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table, with his bound hands in front of him, was the Minister of Magic, Sylvan Witherknot. The Headmistress sat next to him, guarding him with her mouth set into a stern line. It was not a look that Snape had seen since he had come to the future. When she saw Potter and him, she relaxed minutely.

“Severus - ” she began, but just then the Minister turned and saw them. 

“Wait,” Witherknot yelled as soon as he saw Potter. “You can’t just release him! He’s a _murderer,_ he has to be brought to justice just as much as anyone else! People even call him the Dark Lord Slayer, as if the Wizangamot is just a joke. He’s never stood trial for his deeds, you can’t just let him go again.” 

“Minister,” Shacklebolt began, clearly shocked, “You can’t believe that. He saved us all.”

“I was elected fairly, I never lied in my election campaign. I have _always_ advocated the importance of individuals taking responsibility for their actions. Has Potter done that? By electing me the public were asking me to make sure that Harry Potter saw the same justice as everyone else in Wizarding Britain.” 

Potter, his hand tucked into Snape’s, froze. His face looked stricken, as if he entirely agreed with Witherknot. 

“And Lestrange? Was he acting on your orders when he attacked Harry and Severus?” Shacklebolt asked. Witherknot flinched slightly. 

“Desperate measures were called for. I wanted to get Potter tried legally, but no-one else could see the obvious! They couldn’t see that he must pay for his crimes, just like anyone else. So, I struck a deal with Umbridge. I agreed to keep her out of Azkaban, even let her keep her job, if she handled Lestrange for me. Of course, I should have known better. Lestrange couldn’t hold his own against two teenagers and, after Umbridge helped him escape from the Ministry cell, she fell under suspicion too. Aurors have been keeping tabs on her for months. And on poor deluded Norman Smith. For all his fancy words about taking revenge, he never actually had the bottle to get anything done. That’s why I had to step in and take Potter myself. A soul for a soul, that’s always been the Wizarding way!”

“Mr Potter,” McGonagall said calmly, “This man is insane. Severus, take him back to Hogwarts. And make sure that Madam Pomfrey checks him over.”

Snape nodded and, clutching Potter to him, wordlessly Apparated them to just outside the gates of Hogwarts. As soon as they stopped spinning, Potter slumped down onto the ground. When Snape knelt down beside him, he saw the boy’s eyes glistened wetly. 

“Witherknot,” Snape said firmly, repeating McGonagall's statement, “Is mad. It seems to be a fairly common trait amongst politicians, but you should not heed a word he said.”

“But don’t you see? He was right! I may not have had any choice but to kill Voldemort, but I never stood trial. In fact, some people are just angry that I didn’t kill him sooner. But I did kill someone, and I got an Order of Merlin for it. For being a murderer. How is that right?”

“Because he was a psychotic, brutal tyrant who spent most of your life trying to kill you. Witherknot might think that he is on some moral crusade, but the man was unable to turn that same judgement on himself. What would have happened if everyone had fled to France at the beginning of the war, and no-one stayed to fight?”

“Yeah,” Potter said, slowly regaining his voice, “Yeah, you’re right. It was nice, you coming to rescue me. I mean, I’m usually the one rushing off into dangerous situations but it’s funny; even though we had that argument, I knew you’d come.”

He kissed Snape chastely on the cheek and stood up. 

“Well, we should let the others know I’m alright. But, I was thinking, maybe next Hogsmeade weekend we should go and look at properties?”

“Properties?” Snape squeezed his boyfriend’s hand, revelling in the press of flesh against flesh. 

“Yeah, for our new business. Potter and Snape. Snape and Potter. We’ll put Slug and Jiggers out of business within the year!” he said with a laugh.

“We,” Snape croaked, taken aback by how much he wanted what Potter was offering, “We need to discuss the name.”

But Potter just laughed and led them back to Hogwarts.


	24. Chapter 24

“I suppose you’ve heard about Witherknot and his plot. I wanted to see you to tell you about something else. I found a place, in Hogsmeade, that I’m going to buy. Well, Potter and I shall buy it. He wants to split the cost. We’re opening a shop together. He says he loves me. He….He doesn’t know me though, I don’t know if I can make him happy when...When what he really wants is a war hero, and my great ambition is to run an apothecary.”

“You think he loves me?” Headmaster Snape hissed. Besides him, Dumbledore gave an amused chuckle, but otherwise stayed blessedly silent. Snape looked hard at his older self’s portrait. The man’s hair hung limply around his face and the ugly sneer twisted his face, making each wrinkle stand out. “I refuse to believe that I was ever this stupid. You think he wants a bitter old man and a life spent dwelling on past mistakes? I spurned him from the second he stepped into Hogwarts and he hated me equally. Perhaps, sometimes, he was too quick to anger; there was a passion to our enmity, but I doubt he realised it. You should be grateful to know that even when you are old and wrinkled, Potter will still want you.”

Snape shrugged unhappily. This was a cold comfort.

“I told you exactly how to bind him to you, and now you return to me, telling you have followed my instructions but doubt their efficacy -”

“What? I didn’t follow your instructions. I’m saying that sooner or later he will realise that I’m not you, and he will leave me.”

“Then you have bound him all the more tightly for having done it unawares. You are giving him a home and the security of,” the Headmaster’s disdain shown through his words, “Your love. I imagine there has already been talk of children, if I am any judge of Potter.”

Snape shuffled his feet. Perhaps his older self did know Potter quite well. The Headmaster sighed deeply and his tone softened. 

“As much as it surprised me to learn that you had chosen him, I am...proud. You have taken far more advantage of this opportunity than I ever dared dream. Do not throw my sacrifice away now. Yes, perhaps it was my actions that caught Potter’s attention, but it is you that he wishes to start a life with. Put these thoughts from your mind and let yourself enjoy the only bit of happiness you have ever, truly, had.”

Snape nodded dumbly and turned to leave. His older self was right. Potter was the single best thing that had ever happened to him and, despite all his flaws, he was fairly sure that Potter felt the same way about him. This was happiness and he was going to reach out and take it with two hands. 

“Severus,” his older self called out. “If you chose to return here, with Potter in tow, I would not be averse to seeing you both.”

“As you wish,” Snape answered. His older self had given him this gift, had foregone even the bittersweet comfort of death, so that he might have another chance at life. The very least he could do to repay him was visit his portrait. “We shall visit you next week.”

And with that, he left. He still had a third Guild potion to invent and he knew Potter would be in the lab, waiting for him. He nodded at Professor Flitwick as they passed each other in the hallway, the tiny professor answering his nod with a happy wave of his hand. Perhaps he might even be able to persuade Potter to sleep in the Slytherin dorm tonight. Snape smiled to himself. He still had a ridiculous amount of work ahead of him, but Potter would be with him and, now that he knew that, the whole world seemed like a better place.


End file.
